#curious to see if shake it off does well

[norikuna]

SHE TOLD YOU THAT SHE CELIBATE, SHE TOLD ME I COULD NAIL HER SH*T — gojo satoru minors dni

PART I. of the new years letters, a series of fics dedicated to some of my lovely mutuals! 🎁

prologue. → you wish gojo satoru would stop trying to ask you out. not that you don't like him, but dating the one guy that you're smacked silly about would mean that he could break your heart and leave you in ruins. so it's best to keep some distance right?

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. college au, reader wears a skirt, reader is choso's twin and yuuji's older sister, but no appearance detailed. kissing, making out, óral (f) receiving, general bitchiness and fuckups 😚 ensemble cast of poor bystanders (geto, shoko, sukuna, yuki etc)

word count. 10k! song inspiration. gang baby — nle choppa

a/n. it's because of that one edit by satorupedia that's going around rn. yall know which one 😭 art by touno_stupa on twt!

dedication. yayyy decided to start my little gift series for new years with this fic inspired and dedicated to @fushitoru who was one of the first blogs i followed on here before i was super familiar with jujutsu kaisen. aashi writes thee most wonderful gojo fics that are so well characterised and heart-stoppingly adorable and HAWT. 😁 🤭 and i easily associate her with physics/college au gojo now, ever since her spiderman gojo fic that lives in my head!!!!

gojo in this fic:

ACT I. don't puck around and find out!

"i ran into gojo today," choso says, his voice as unbothered and monotone as ever, scraping the gravel lazily with the heel of his scuffed combat boots, "or he ran into me."

"gojo satoru?"

"how many gojos do we know?" your twin brother huffs, giving you a dry side-eye. but before you can retort something equally acrid, he's yanking at the sleeve of your sweatshirt, halting you midstep, "wait. car."

you blink out of your tired daze just in time to see a battered camry putter past, its engine groaning like it's on its last legs. just how you feel after a long day of seminars and lectures. the car rattles down the street with the grace of a tin can tied to a string.

"thanks," you mutter, half-heartedly as you shift your laptop case from one tired arm to the other, "could have been the end of my genius academic career."

"would have been a short one either way," choso quietly quips, earning himself a sharp elbow to the ribs.

"so?" you press on.

"so, what?"

"what did gojo say?"

"ohhh," choso drawls, in that irritating way of his that indicates he has no idea how to deliver good gossip, news or any form of tea, "he asked if i wanted to play hockey for his team tomorrow. they're down a player ever since kento went on exchange."

"hockey?" your eyebrow arches, and skepticism curls your lips for choso is hardly known for his athleticism. you mean, you're sure he has the physical ability in him somewhere but you (and the rest of the world) are yet to see it, "are you gonna join the team, then?"

not that you care about gojo's stupid, state-tournament winning team. of course not. you're just curious. and curiosity is harmless.

it has nothing to do with the fact that you woke up last night wanting to jump gojo satoru's bones. just like you did the night before, and before. and the week before that. yeah, suffice to say that this has been going on for a while.

"nah," choso says, shaking dull, greasy strands of dark hair out of his eyes, "got placements tomorrow."

right. placements. choso's all about pathology and lab medicine and test tubes, while you get queasy at the mere mention of haemoglobin. and it unsettles you mildly at how your twin brother's eyes light up at the mere mention of a blood test.

"and?" you prod when he starts to drift off again, his attention wandering like it always does.

choso is often like a calm river. slow, broad and lazy.

this time, you pull at his one of his headphone cords to reel him back, "did gojo say anything else?"

choso gives you that dull look, quiet but loaded. like he's already solved a puzzle that you didn't know you were trying to hide. it just makes your stomach twist, "why do you care what gojo satoru says?"

"i don't," you snap, far too fast, like your tongue is racing your brain to a crash site. the lie sits heavy in your throat, thick and obvious.

choso's pale and dry lips twitch, and you wondered what happened to the lip balm you threw into his christmas stocking last year, "should i have told him you could sub in for his team instead?"

"no-one likes a smartass, cho," you grumble, speeding up your steps as your twin leisurely rummages through his fraying backpack for his house keys. you roll your eyes and push ahead, jamming your own keys into the lock before you die of boredom waiting for him to dig through the trash heap that lies at the bottom of his bag, "anyway, i was just asking. you brought gojo up."

choso trails behind you, his tone infuriatingly casual, "you always get weird when someone mentions him. i thought you guys were friends."

"we are friends. and i don't get weird."

"you get so weird. even yuki said so."

"i love yuki, i do. but she has no idea what she's talking about —"

the door swings open, cutting off your false deflection. standing there is yuuji, with half a sandwich dangling from his mouth like he's some kind of feral creature. there's a smear of mayonnaise clinging to his cheek as he yanks a red, track hoodie over his tank top.

"mmph! hey, you guys!" he muffles through a mouthful of bread, waving at you with the enthusiasm that only a teenage boy could muster after inhaling half the fridge.

"where are you off to?" you peer at your younger brother, your eyes zeroing in on his mutilated sandwich. a sandwich that you're certain you made for yourself this morning, leaving it for a study session upon your return.

"track practice," yuuji says, swallowing the last bite whole, "then dinner with fushiguro and kugisaki." he's already halfway down the driveway, sneakers untied and laces flopping on the pavement behind him.

choso narrows his eyes, "got money? or a water bottle? a hat? did you wear sunscreen?"

"i'm good!" yuuji calls back without breaking stride, waving a quick hand at the two of you.

"why don't you hold his hand and walk him to school, mother?"

"shut up," choso grumbles as he brushes past you into the house, throwing you an exaggerated scowl of wounded, elder-brother pride over his shoulder, "why don't you hold gojo's hand to hockey practice?"

your bookbag swings through the air, connecting to the back of choso's oversized head and a loud thud follows.

ACT II. long overdue and lacking a spine

you had been in this library for hours, eyes blurring as the words in your textbook stubbornly refused to make sense. it was all a gross blur of terms and diagrams, and your $8.00 coffee had gone lukewarm an hour ago.

study, pass, graduate. get a good gpa. that was the plan, no distractions.

your phone, however, had other ideas as it sat innocently next to your stack of notes. you tapped the screen quickly under the guise of a 'quick break' but before long, you were deep into instagram stories. someone's dog, a flyer for a rave that you definitely weren't going to, and then, of course, him.

gojo satoru. on someone's reposted story with a classic, grainy photo of one of the campus's most darling boys. long arm draped casually over some girl. both of them lit in the neon glow of what looked like a party bus. he wasn't even looking at the camera, just flashing that effortless grin that you had seen your entire life growing up. and the girl was gorgeous, obviously. not that you cared about that.

but speak of the devil and he hath appear. a long shadow fell over the table, and you felt the chill in your bones, trying not to shift in your seat.

"go away, gojo," you muttered, not even deigning to look up.

"how'd you know it was me?" his voice is teasing, all light and airy as he's pulling out the chair next to you.

"what can i say? lucky guess," you reply dryly, keeping your eyes glued to the suspiciously-stained textbook. worried that you'll look up and your iron resolve will disappear from one glance at big, blue eyes.

but out of the corner of his eye, you try not to twitch at the sight of the soft, pale blue hoodie that swallows his broad frame whole. thick, white strands of hair that fall gently over his face. and that cloying scent of mint and something faintly sweet that leaves your ears hot and your heart sitting in your throat.

study, pass, graduate. get a good gpa. that's what you tell yourself in a now failing mantra.

"are you following me today?" you ask, flipping a page with exaggerated nonchalance, like you're not about to tear up pathetically from a stupid crush.

"caught me," gojo says, the grin audible even in his voice, "i just couldn't resist finding you. is that what you want me to say?"

you finally look up, swallowing at unfairly fine features, "saw you were at some party yesterday. i didn't think you'd be on campus today."

gojo just laughs, the sound soft and infuriating, "keeping tabs on me now?" and he's rifling through his bag for something, "or you don't think the library's a good look for me? i'm broadening my horizons. testing the waters."

you narrow your eyes, willing the heat rising in your face to stay put and not crawl into your voice, "i think you're testing my patience. i have a test tomorrow, so if you're here to waste my time..."

"maybe i just wanted to hang out with my friend," gojo says, tearing open a kitkat wrapper in an obnoxious way that echoes through the silent hall, and the crinkle of plastic grates against your nerves, "we haven't seen each other in ages."

"don't you have a lot of other people to hang out with nowadays?" you're mentally beating yourself with a bat at your question, wincing at how it sounds like you keep count of who he hangs out with, and you're pathetically down bad for him. like a 90s singer begging on his knees for a kiss.

"i mean, i could hang out with them," gojo says, breaking his kitkat horizontally like a monster, "but they're not you."

his sunglasses are gone, revealing eyes so blue they look otherworldly, and he's throwing you that smiling, lopsided grin that makes your heart run around a room and bang into the walls. but no. you were not going to let gojo satoru get to you. he probably made every girl feel like this, like they were the centre of his fast-paced universe. until the next shiny thing came along.

besides, gojo satoru dated models. or stunning cheerleaders. the kind of people who looked good under strobe lights, and in the glow of his party bus digital camera pics.

and hey, it's not like you were self-depreciating or awfully insecure. you liked who you were and you would never change it for anyone. quiet and ambitious. reserved, but down for some fun. you'd like to think you were the type of person who saw the world in a beautiful, cinematic light. but it was maddening how gojo satoru seemed to bring out the most juvenile issues in you that had your stomach turning itself into ugly knots.

"gojo," you try to sound as nonchalant as possible, "are you even here to study?"

as in why are you really here? please ask me out.

gojo looks unbothered, unshaken, "coffee. cake. maybe even some flirting, if you're up to it."

the universe hates you. it has a way of delivering what you want right into your hands, when...you don't exactly want it.

you blink at the white-haired man, disbelief bubbling under your skin, "you're not serious."

"why wouldn't i be?"

"c'mon, satoru. everyone knows you're not the actual dating type. you ever been in a relationship that wasn't pr and lasted for more than two weeks?"

absolutely bonkers at how your heart and your tongue are not on the same wavelength at all. it's like your mouth missed the memo and is just firing bullets that have gojo's grin faltering a bit, as a flicker of heated annoyance flashes in his eyes. even hurt, but it's gone too quickly for you to read into it.

"didn't realise that you thought i was that much of a joke," and you're not fond of how gojo's voice is quieter now, and a pretty sneer is dancing across his lips. you're biting your lip before you lose your stupid, petty resolve to not get involved with someone who could truly break your heart.

"if you didn't make everything a joke, it wouldn't be," you snap at him, and you're not even sure what you're angry at. there's no reason to be annoyed, or frustrated or even hurt and snippy with a friend who came and sat with you to catch up.

but you don't want to untangle whatever you're projecting onto gojo satoru, so you let bitter words spill over, "some of us don't have time for your games, gojo. we have real lives to deal with."

gojo's expression shifts completely, and that playful spark in his eyes is replaced with something colder as he stands up and shoves his hands into his pockets, "right." and his tone is clipped, pissed, "got it. no time for games."

you watch as gojo walks away, already tapping away on his phone, but his footsteps are quieter than you expect. part of you wants to call after him, to take back the teeth and claws that painted your words.

but instead, you just look away from him and grimace. you must have pulled an awful, twisted face — for the man sitting across from you leans in and asks if you need to take an aspirin, or if you're low on fibre.

ACT III. between the covers

the bookstore smells faintly of old paper and new ink. a sharp contrast to the chill lingering outside, so the warmth hits you like a welcome blanket. the air buzzes with the muted chatter of customers, and the occasional beep of a cash register.

you're winding your way through the aisles, set on two missions. find that jacket-cover book that you had been wanting for weeks, and to hunt down the manga that yuuji had begged you to pick up for him.

you dart past a couple lingering in front of a 'booktube' bestseller display, narrowing avoiding a child wielding a stuffed dragon that you can only assume is smaug the magnificent from the hobbit. straight into the quieter section of the store, tucked in the back and smack-bang right into —

thud!

your shoulder collides hard with someone else, sending you stumbling back a step.

"fuck's sake. watch it," the person snaps, his tone sharp.

"maybe you should —" you start to retort, before the words die and patter out on your tongue as your mouth goes dry.

gojo satoru, ladies and gentlemen.

he's scowling at you, with sunglasses pushed up onto his head that expose those ridiculously pale eyelashes under the glow of the overhead lights. he's layered on a crisp varsity jacket, over a thick hoodie, all shades of soft blue and grey. and he looks irritated, with thick brows furrowed at you. but you don't miss the faint surprise that flutters across his face when he takes you in.

"seriously?" gojo murmurs, though more to himself, and his voice still holds an edge that has you wilting, "out of all the aisles in this store..."

you blink, caught somewhere between an apology that dances on the edge of your lips, and a bewildered laugh at how the divine powers deliver the worst luck on you. instead, you shove your hands deep into the pockets of your aviator jacket, "sorry. didn't see you."

gojo's shoulders relax, but just barely. as though he's still caught in the heavy fog of tension from your last words to him. but to your mild credit, he doesn't quite look ready to storm out either. progress?

"so. what are you doing here?" you ask, trying to break the ice and pretend that you're not doing internal pirouettes.

"just had to pick up a textbook," gojo mutters, holding up a thin and over-priced looking book on something like...quantum mechanics, "exams are coming up. gotta keep the top spot, you know."

you blink, "you're actually studying?"

gojo raises his eyebrow, lips twitching into the faintest smile, "what? you think i roll into my classes and ace everything through sheer willpower? or i spend all day being a joke and annoying everyone, right?"

you sigh, feeling the frosty, ice-gaze settle once more over you, paralysing you from head to toe, "look, gojo. i don't know what came over me that day," and now you're being sincere, looking away from his narrowed stare, "it's like some crazy, evil monster came over me and it possessed me. i think i incarnated some demon king in me and i said all that mean shit."

he shifts slightly beside you, and you don't miss at how gojo's lower lip juts out at your apology, or how close he is to you right now. "and i was jus' being stupid. swear i don't think you're a joke." you try to pick up some random book, pretending you're very busy as you speak.

but it's very hard to look genuine when you've just picked up a glossy copy of 'stand and deliver: a hard look at fixing male erection problems.'

it earns you a small laugh, light and quick, that has you almost falling to your knees, and you can hear choso's voice in your head. muttering out a dulcet 'i told you so. you want him so bad.' but it's worth it as gojo leans against the nearest shelf, the annoyance from earlier starting to ebb.

and for a moment, gojo studies you and his expression is unreadable. for your part, you're pretending to read the back cover of 'stand and deliver' and some blurb about how this award-winning author managed to help her husband 'get it up' after twenty years of marriage.

but the tension in his posture dissolves, relaxing further and gojo hums, "noted." that's all he says, and an awkward silence hovers. it hovers so uncomfortably, leaving you floundering for a new topic until gojo's voice breaks the silence.

"choso's doing good, yeah? i heard he got a girlfriend."

you smile, "yeah. yuki, she's like really cool. i don't know how he did it."

gojo snickers, "i asked if he wanted to play hockey and i think he's been avoiding me all week."

you try to pretend its not because of how you re-enacted your little spat with gojo, demonstrating the entire thing for your twin brother. who had just called you stupid afterwards. among other not-so-flattering terms, with little consideration for your crushing, beating heart.

"you going to suguru's party next weekend?"

ah, now that's a curveball.

because, again, you are your own brand of cool. or so you'd like to think, so this isn't really a matter of pitying comparison. but geto suguru is like on another level of effortlessly vogue. at least in your eyes. you know that he's gojo's best friend and he delivered a (controversial) and killer project on gene editing last semester. you know that geto's involved with gig photography as a hobby, and thus, has personal access to some of the coolest bands in the city.

and you also know that he occasionally waves a hand to you, but it's not like you actually know the man. it's just mutual association.

"i wasn't planning on it," you hesitate, for you really had been planning to cram through a mid-term session, "but someone asked me to go as their date."

gojo's smile evaporates, "who?"

"naoya zenin," you say cautiously, watching as gojo's face twists. like he's resisting the urge to gag and tear his hair out.

"naoya? he's like a walking billboard for being an entitled cunt," gojo groans, running a hand through glossy hair that has you trailing your gaze over slender, sculpted hands.

you narrow your eyes, "he seemed...okay. smart, i think."

"oh, he's smart. i'm not questioning that," gojo crabs, "he's so arrogant though. i grew up seeing that guy everywhere. our families were like, half friends."

you cross your arms, suddenly defensive, "are you warning me? or just mad that he asked me out?"

gojo seems to flounder for half a second, quick enough that you could miss it and he could deny it, "jealous of naoya? please," and he scoffs as he leans back against the shelf, "i have taste. unlike some people."

"you can't be the one giving me a lecture on dating etiquette. i mean, how many dates do you have lined up for geto's party? two, three?"

gojo gives you a sly grin, "more than that, hah. gotta keep my options open."

"tacky," you wrinkle your nose, trying to pretend that you don't feel like you just guzzled a gallon of curdled milk, "and classless."

"yes," gojo sighs sadly, "and endlessly charming. it's so hard being me," shooting you back a quizzical look as he pulls up to the register, paying for his textbook.

as he paid, you linger near the shelves, pretending to browse while stealing glances at gojo satoru. there was something different about him today, something quieter that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

and on gojo's way out, he pauses in the doorway, turning back to look at you. his expression is still entirely unreadable, his gaze lingering for just a second longer than usual. and then he was gone.

ACT IV. blush confidential

there's a soft hum of pop music wafting from someone's phone, blending in with the rustle of fabric and the hiss of a straightener. your bedroom is a whirlwind of motion and chaos, with clothes thrown over chairs, and pre-game drinks piled up over your vanity.

"i can't believe you're not coming with us," you gripe to yuki, watching as she lounged up on your bed, denim crinkling as she shifted to adjust herself.

"tch, you know i love a good party," yuki grins with sparkling ideas, "but choso and i have a date tonight. he's been texting me about it all day."

you snicke at the thought of your hapless twin, "yeah. he was practically glued to your dm's. ran into the kitchen table twice this morning."

shoko snorts from her spot at the vanity, from where she's running a brush through cropped, chestnut hair, "choso nervous? i need to see that," she catches your eye in the mirror, "do you still have that lip gloss?"

"on it," you're digging into the vast depths of your purse, grazing your wallet and a hal-featen granola bar. stubbing your finger on an opened gel pen, before clutching a small shiny tube that you toss to shoko.

"so," shoko smacks her lips, "how's it going with naoya?"

you blink, pausing in the middle of capping all your drying pens, "what do you mean how's it going? nothing's going."

your friend swivels on her stool, raising a thin eyebrow, "he's your date at this party, right? and why him, of all people?"

"seriously. that guy's got a reputation. and not a good kind, for a very good reason," utahime chimes in from her corner, where she's yanking on a ribbon woven through her hair.

you shrug, suddenly feeling defensive under their collective scrutiny, "hey. he asked, i said yes. it's not that deep."

shoko exchanges a pointed glance with utahime, and both of them looking equally skeptical in a way that has you flushing.

"he's just annoying, you know," shoko points out, "he thinks he's better than everyone else, and half the time? it's just hot air."

"and the other half?"

"still hot air," shoko flatlines, "you can do better."

"anyone's better than gojo," utahime mutters, "you don't want to be stuck with him."

yuki's snickering, and you're doing your utter best to pretend that the mention of gojo satoru doesn't have you crawling up and down the walls like a termite on crack.

"speaking of gojo," yuki drawls, running a comb through a golden sheaf of thick hair, "is he going with anyone to this party?"

you freeze for half a second, before busying yourself with some new body mist that you picked up from a sale, all vanilla and coconut and macademia, "i ran into gojo the other day," and you keep your tone as neutral as possible, "and he said he had a few dates."

"ugh," shoko groans, wrinkling her nose, "of course he does," and utahime mutters an affirmative, exasperated sigh, echoed only by yuki, who pauses mid-brush to look at you sympathetically.

"what?" you snap, defensive, "why are you all looking at me like that?"

shoko tucks a thin strand of hair behind her ear, "well, i mean. you like gojo, right? like really like him?"

"huh?" the question catches you so off guard that you're left sputtering, as the perfume leaves a sharp and awful taste on your tongue, accidentally leaving a fresh spritz into your mouth, and not the curve of your neck.

"oh, blech. absolutely not," you say vehemently, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, "i don't like him like that. not that i think he's awful or anything —"

utahime crosses her arms, white sleeves brushing against each other, "he is awful."

"yes, thank you for that, utahime. but he's just not my type," you finish firmly, "he's loud. he's disruptive. he can't take anything seriously. i can't date that."

yuki gives you a long and knowing look, "oh, he likes you," she says lightly, as though she's telling you a casual piece of news, and not something that has you biting your tongue till iron spills, "he's been crushing on you for so long."

you feel your stomach twist uncomfortable, like little, evil goblins are dancing in your gut, "that's ridiculous," you mutter, fiddling with the clasp of your purse, "if he liked me, he would ask me out properly. and not date half the student population."

"he probably thinks it's fair, because you keep turning him down," shoko says matter-of-factly, standing up to grab her bag.

"i just don't think he's good for you. or anyone," utahime mutters, earning a pinch from you.

ACT V. stereo love

normally, gojo thrived at these parties. suguru was always able to pull a crowd that straddled the line between chic and cool, with just enough alcohol to keep things interesting. the thrum of the bass-heavy music should have been the perfect escape after a gruelling day spent staring at equations, leaving him half-convinced that his course coordinator was plotting against him and wanted him dead.

but now gojo satoru was just jittery, restless. and he hated that.

so for now, he leaned against the kitchen counter with a full cup in hand, watching people spill out of the living room and into the backyard. it seemed that other students had been aching for a party, something to take them off mid-terms and yet here he was, scowling like a storm cloud. he took another swig of his drink, ignoring how his own stomach was doing unexplained cartwheels.

"you good?"

suguru's low voice cuts through the noise, startling gojo enough that he has to tighten his fingers around his cup so sticky beer doesn't spill over pristine tiles.

gojo waves his closest friend and confidante off, "i'm fine. obviously."

suguru's frown deepens, though it's obscured by his loose, choppy dark hair. and there's skepticism painted all over his face, "you're never this quiet at any party. i thought that by now, i would have had to convince you not to jump off the roof."

"you think too little of me."

"you think too much of yourself," suguru drawls, but he's leaning against the counter beside gojo, as leather and cool metal rustle against each other, "so where's your date? or dates, i should say?"

gojo freezes, his cup halfway to his lip, "come again? what are you talkin' about?"

suguru arches a thin brow, "it's practically all over campus, man. apparently, you had several dates with lovely, young ladies lined up tonight. and i tried to defend your fragile honour, said it was too ambitious even for you. but..."

this revelation hits gojo like a punchline that he wasn't in on, and then it clicks for him. oh, he had started that rumour a few days ago. in the bookstore, to you. his brain replays the scene like a cruel, little highlight reel: the way your expression had wavered minutely, just for a moment, when he had straight up lied and claimed that he had a few dates.

truth be told, gojo had only said it to make you jealous, to see if he could ruffle you and play your game even better.

but now the joke was so clearly on him.

because gojo satoru had no dates. and you? you were here with someone who wasn't him.

suguru's following his gaze across the room, and gojo doesn't even bother to hide his petulant interest. he can see you standing near the back walls, laughing at something that naoya zenin, mayor of all things putrid, had said. naoya, with his stupid green roots and louis vuitton jacket, standing just a little bit too close to you for gojo's liking.

but before he can stew in it any linger, suguru's reaching out and pinching his ear. hard.

"ow! fuck was that for?" gojo's yelping, jerking away from his clearly evil, traitrous best friend.

"that," suguru says evenly, "was for looking like a lovesick idiot. pull yourself together, man."

"i'm not lovesick," gojo weakly protests, rubbing his bruised, throbbing ear and moving further away from suguru geto.

"you're not exactly screaming cool and collected," suguru dryly comments, "sulking like a sore loser while your crush laughs at another guy's jokes."

gojo feels his face heat up, just a little bit, because he knows that suguru's hitting close to home, "i don't sulk and do all that whiny shit. second of all, it's not my fault she went with zenin of all people. it's up to her if she wants to be stuck with someone who talks about his family's real estate portfolio as foreplay."

suguru snorts, and it's clear that he's not playing the role of sympathetic best man for life, "you know what's more obnoxious? watching you fuck around like this. you need to figure out how to ask her properly."

"i did all that!" gojo shoots back, throwing his arms up so his drink dances over the edge of the cup, "she said no. each time. you know what they call a guy who can't take a hint? she thinks i'm a loser!"

"and are you?"

gojo narrows his eyes, "am i what?"

"a loser."

"is it easier for me if i just say yes?" gojo half-heartedly gripes, "is that what you want me to say?"

"or," suguru says calmly, "you're a guy who hasn't proven he's worth saying yes to."

gojo groans, tipping his head back so he can block out the vision of his irritatingly wise best friend, "you sound like my grandmother."

"that's not even an insult. your grandmother is on some metal shit," suguru counters, unbothered, "and you sound like a twelve-year old. you can't flirt and sleaze your way through this. if you want her to take you seriously, i don't know how else to say this, you have to stop being...you."

"excuse me?"

"no. stop, don't make that face," suguru scowls, "you know what i mean. stop being a stupid flirt, and be a genuinely better person. otherwise, you're just spinning and burning out your wheels."

"did you pick up a self help book?"

suguru elbows him, sneering, "i'm trying to help you. if you don't want my help, i'm telling her you have an std."

"maybe you should just do that. end my misery," gojo downs the rest of his drink in one go, the burn of cheap beer doing nothing to ease the olympics in his alimentary canal. what's worse is that suguru is right, the bastard always is.

suguru claps him on the shoulder, "relax, satoru. you've got charm in spades. just use it...wisely."

"yeah, yeah. thanks, man," gojo mutters, brushing him off as suguru wanders away, probably to mediate some dumb argument between that big oaf, toji fushiguro and the even bigger oaf, ryomen sukuna. honestly, why were they even invited?

but gojo stays where he is, eyes flicking back to you. away from the distracting curve of your thighs in that skirt, and rather on how interested you look in naoya's stupid, animated gestures. and you look so at ease, but there's something hot and sharp twisting inside his gut.

suguru's soft, measured voice echoes in his head, "prove yourself as a person first."

oh, yeah. gojo could do that. he would absolutely do that. for you, he'd do just about anything, short of donating his vital organs (but he would definitely be considering it). but how hard could it be to be better? more mature? more grounded?

gojo satoru can handle all that. all he had to do was be a dignified, charming man. you know, someone who puts his best foot forward into the world. someone that you might actually consider taking seriously. someone calm and respectful.

if you were happy with naoya zenin, then who was he to interfere? who was he to ruin that for you? even if the guy looked like wile e. coyote when he smiled. even if naoya zenin was the most smug bastard to walk the earth.

gojo scowled at nothing in particular. but the point was that it wasn't his place to meddle. not if it meant risking your happiness. all he could do was be the best version of himself. polite, kind and above reproach. a good and respectful friend.

ACT VI. a shot of love, on the rocks.

"please, i want you so fuckin' bad."

gojo satoru is on his knees. at a party, in the middle of the living room. for you.

you feel like your mind isn't able to process all this fast enough, like your brain is on some pause. the music is still thumping in your head, but not as fast as your poor cardiac muscles as you're rendered frozen from pathetic, piercing blue eyes blinking up at you.

"please," gojo satoru repeats, and his voice vaguely warbles out like he's kinda lost his marbles and —

let's rewind.

five minutes ago, you had been standing with naoya zenin. and despite your initial reservations, you had been entertained. he's sorta witty, and definitely loaded with snarky remarks that cut through the noise of the party. it's hard not to laugh at his biting commentary, although half the time he's skewering people for fun, and the other half? just out of pure spite.

his golden eyes gleam with that edge, the kind of sharpness that makes you think of a hyena circling around its next meal. naoya is definitely full of himself, but it doesn't help that he's also ridiculously good-looking. and he knows how stunning he is, but its bothering him that you're not showering him in enough compliments for it.

still, he's here with you. he's your date. and you're doing your best to remind yourself of that. naoya is the only option you have at the moment, and he's definitely offering you more attention than anyone else tonight.

from across the room, utahime gives you an exaggerated, pained thumbs-up — while shoko shrugs in her usual blithe manner, but she gestures for you to smile more. you plaster on a wider grin, a little too obvious but naoya doesn't seem to notice.

"you know, if you're getting bored of all this, we could always find another room," naoya's low hiss slices right through the bass-thrum of the pulsing room, "do a little more than just talk."

for a moment, it's easy to imagine slipping away with him. but the sharpness in his killer-smile makes something in you bristle, like he's already envisioned you saying 'oh yes, naoya! please take me to bed!' and you shake your head, and give him an amused look.

"maybe later," you say lightly, "not now."

naoya zenin doesn't seem quite offended, but his smile grows wider as he stands up straight again, from where he had curved his tall frame into you, "i'm a patient man. fine by me, 'm gonna get some more drinks."

and you watch as his golden head of hair disappears into the crowd, leaving you all alone while the music blares around you, like a suffocating fog. you rub your temples, wondering if you should just go after naoya and tell him to go to town, something for the night's enjoyment. but before you can go any further, you hear a shout cut through the noise.

"hey!"

you whip around, blinking in surprise at gojo satoru.

but also not quite the gojo that you're used to. the one that you grew up with, and held hands with in kindergarten, one who smiled easy and laughed too loud. it seems he's ditched the oversized hoodies and varsity jackets tonight, opting for a black tee that fits him a little too well and dark cargo pants that only highlight...

you're getting distracted. but it's hard to remain focused, when he's walking towards with you. seemingly determined, as his white hair falls forward over thunderstorm-eyes. for a moment, you're not sure if you’re hearing him over the pounding music, or if it's just your own pulse making everything seem louder.

"i hate that you're here with naoya," gojo says suddenly, and his voice is low and serious, something that you've never really heard from him before.

your brow furrows, "what?"

"i lied about the dates," he continues, as words just jumble out his candy-pink mouth, "i don't have a bunch of dates. fuck, i don't even have one date. i only want to date you."

you blink, and then you blink once more, because again what?

the sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, you think you might have misheard the man. his blue eyes are wide and earnest, and they're staring right at you.

and before you know, he's on his knees. muscular thighs bending so his knees hit the cool tiles with a heavy thud, hands splayed out for you.

"please," he implores, "you gotta understand. i need you to feel what i feel, because it's not even a passin' thought, i swear. it's not even a stupid crush. this is like —" and he's gesturing wildly with one hand, still kneeling like a knight about to beg for his lady's favour, "this is destiny."

"gojo," you manage, "are you on drugs?"

the white-haired man, bless his sassy heart, rolls his eyes, "no. i'm on beer and vodka. will you please let me finish?"

"yes, but what are you doing?" you hiss, exasperated and sibilant, as more eyes turn to the most ravishing man on campus, who's absolutely off his rocker. and there are phones being pulled out, god help you.

"what am i doing?" gojo smiles, and it's unnervingly wide, "i'm like laying it out all here for you. my love. because that's what you are, to me. like you're everything. and i swear everyone knows this already. should i call you my sun, my moon, my entire universe? it's like time stops when i see you, a-and trust me, i do physics. i know time shit," and he must have caught at how your mouth is flapping open because he suddenly wags a finger, "no! i'm not done. i haven't even told you how the world fades, and all that's left is you glowing. like a star that i can't reach."

he's placing a hand on his broad chest, digging into the tight top clinging to his pectorals, like he's being dramatically wounded, "i have to reach you. i have to be with you."

you're not sure what parts you've processed, or what part of this slow train-wreck has settled in your head, "are you, like, actually begging right now?"

gojo's eyes flash with the intensity of a thousand suns (well, fuck — gojo's awful poeticism is rubbing off on you already). you can hear the low snickers of two men that had been beating the living daylights out of each other half an hour ago, those fuckwits that go by toji and sukuna. you can hear sukuna's deep mutters about how no-one ever would like toji enough to do this for him. and yep, you can hear them scuffle again.

"yes!" gojo booms, and more than a few heads have turned now. you wonder if naoya zenin is watching in the background, and realising that this isn't a battle he wants to pick, "i will kneel for you. like i'd do this shit for eternity, even if my knees hurt so bad right now. but as long as you give me a chance to prove my worth. and my devotion, d-don't forget that! deep as the ocean, endless and vast. and the stars align...oh, how they align for us."

"ah, satoru," you cut in, and you realise that you're now smiling. embarrassment and mild humiliation be damned, there's a quirk tugging at your lips, "you can get up now. this is a bit dramatic."

gojo blinks, not missing a beat, "i'm dramatic because i'm in love, okay? and —" he swivels his head to the crowd, grumbling, "shut up, sukuna! i heard that, i'll beat your wonky ass. you don' know shit about love."

he's turning back to you, all sticky and soothing sugar once more, "where was i? eh, my confession. well, it's all for you. and it's me, givin' you every part of me. beggin' you to see that you're the only one who can break the walls around my heart."

you think that you've completed a full speed-run on every stage of grief that there is to experience, and if the small plink! coming from someone's phone is any indication, gojo's monologue has already made it's way onto someone's private story. and so naturally, everyone will have seen it by tomorrow.

"can you get off your knees? you look ridiculous."

gojo's grin falters for a split second before he straights up, all with a hefty groan as he runs a hand through snowy strands, "ridiculous? i'm being vulnerable as hell, and you think i look stupid?"

"a little," you admit, but you're reaching a hand out to push a strand of thick hair out of his eyes. and it's maddening at how gojo seems to tremble mildly under your touch, at the brush of your fingers against his temple, "kneeling at a frat party is crazy work."

gojo sinks his teeth into a plush lower lip, "that was me trying to show how much i care, and all that sweet shit. you make me lose all my cool, and this isn't even a joke."

"you never had cool, and now you've lost your dignity too," but you're blushing, and it's a giddy feeling at how he's now close enough that you can feel his body heat.

gojo satoru's eyes twinkle, "maybe. but i'd do all that again if it won you over."

"with your future oscar nomination?"

the man shrugs, broad muscles rippling, "he who be a fool for love is far better than he who doth never dare to try at all."

"fair point," you murmur, feeling dizzy in that familiar scent of lemon candies and mint, like the world is swirling around in a heady haze, "do you wanna kiss me to seal the deal?"

"yes please. i think i'm gonna pass out and — mmph!"

you've pulled yourself up, and thrown your arms around his warm neck, drawing gojo into you. crashing your lips into his before either of you can say anything else. it's an urgent, reckless kiss. like a dam has burst and all the pent-up emotions that you've been carrying have finally exploded.

gojo's lips are soft, but demanding, taking more and more air from you. they fit against you with an ease that feels almost too natural. and his broad arms come around your waist with a force that leaves the air punched out of you. he's holding you tightly, as though he's afraid that you'll just disappear if he doesn't keep you close enough.

you can feel the heat of his body against yours, the muscles in his arms that flex as he pulls you in, deepening the kiss. all while his mouth moves against yours with a slow and deliberate intensity, as his tongue parts your lips. all so messy.

when gojo finally pulls away, the last brush of his lips catches your quiet whimper. just as his breath goes ragged, and you're left standing there, dazed, with your forehead resting against his. you can still feel the warmth of his lips on yours, that electricity that's crackling and buzzing through your veins as you giggle.

gojo, however, doesn't give you a chance to catch your breath. he tugs your wrist with a sharp, swift motion. but his grip is firm, not harsh as you pulls you away from the living room, "c'mon. let's get outta here."

shoko's eyes are wide, her jaw practically locked in disbelief, "what the hell just happened?"

utahime's lips curl, "someone took gojo's brain out and replaced it with a clone. ah! geto, what did you do?"

suguru has been standing near the kitchen counter, absolutely floored, and he's shaking his head so hard that he feels a headache forming, "hand on my heart, ladies. i told him not to pull any stunts. swear on destiny's child that i didn't tell him to do all that."

ACT VII. i bet we'd have really good bed chem!

gojo satoru has absolutely lost his mind. but you wish that he had lost it a bit earlier, because you're practically pawing at his top now. critically working to make quick work of the tight fabric, letting your fingers run over hard planes of muscles and lower.

right until you're reaching a trail of soft white hairs that disappear into the band of his pants.

"seems like you're just as desparate as me, hah," gojo snickers, and his broad hand is trailing further up your thighs, letting your skirt bunch and crinkle under his ministrations. thick fingers brush over dewy cotton, and you moan.

"s-satoru!"

"you don't even know how long i've w-wanted this," and his hand clenches at the fabric, gripping it so tightly that you fear it may just be on the verge of tearing, but you can only buck your hips into him further.

no longer even mindful of how you must be already dripping onto the palm of his hand, "and i thought you knew. i r-really thought you knew how much i wanted you."

his middle finger is gliding through your damp and searing slit, with clinging strands latching onto his skin as you muffle a whine into his chasing, teasing lips.

it's sending deep, low curls of arousal in thick waves, settling low in your groin and you don't even care what room of the house you're now in, someone's bedroom with a dark, stylish bedspread and vinyls up on the walls.

the force of his large hands drives you down onto the bed, pressing your back onto the soft mattress.

and gojo looks so pleased, at how you're splayed and sprawled out underneath his torso, his hands tugging at your now bare thighs to spread your legs even further. pulling them far enough so they come to rest on either side of his face.

"fuck, she's so pretty. even better than i imagined," and gojo's voice is husky and low, almost strained, "and believe me. imagined her plenty." the sound of drenched cotton being torn rips through the air, slippery and resistant from your arousal.

it's even stubborn as the fabric refuses to budge, until it gives way under the force of gojo's tug, soft and tearing. leaving your pussy open to the cool, cold air. bare for gojo's eyes to rest upon and widen.

his lips brush against your thigh with an uncharacteristic gentleness, one that makes your entrance clench and wink.

but gojo is nothing if not teasing, and he feels light-headed. pressing featherlight kisses to the crevice of your thigh, and then closer to your aching mound. but even he cannot hold off for much longer, and he's pressing a flat, lazy print of his tongue against your cunt.

that first munch sends a burst of tangy sweetness dancing across gojo's tongue, and he thinks he might just bust a load right then and there. the heat of your clenching cunt is almost overwhelming, but hey.

gojo's never been a quitter, and he doesn't care if he creams his pants at this very moment, he needs to hear that sweet whimper of his name from your lips again.

his lips part, blowing a quick breath on your aching clit, right as his fingers begin to press and meld into your syrupy folds. it's got you practically jumping further into him, so wet strands are clinging to the very tip of his nose. and gojo knows that this is heaven. that he's unlocked true paradise.

"satoru, c-can't you...?"

he's too busy running his tongue over your clit, drawing small circles with the very tip of the hot muscle, "can't i what, pretty? don' want me eating you out?"

and you are so adorable, pushing your head up to scowl down at him with furrowed brows, but the flush in your cheeks paints you the most beautiful shade of cherry red. and gojo vows to spend the rest of his life ensuring that this shade never leaves your cheeks.

"can't you get to the eating part? thought that you were gonna — f-fuck! hnngh, 'toru!"

he's pulling your thighs tighter around his head, and he doesn't give a fuck if this is how he goes. suffocated in this tantalising heat, with your fingers lacing themselves into woven patterns in his white hair.

he's lowering his tongue once more into your throbbing pussy, making sure that his pleased vibrations send pleasurable rumbles right through your core.

grinning and slurring his tongue further into you, right as you buck desparate hips over and over. dragging yourself against his chin, so he's sure that the lower half of his face must be glistening with your sweetness.

gojo absolutely thinks he can get used to being like this, at having you angle and force his head further into your cunt. letting you angle and toy at him and use him for your pleasure. he snaps his teeth around glossy strands of arousal, once and then twice, before delving back in.

making sure that his spare hand finds your clit to draw quick flicks and shapes over it, pushing a finger right up against the throbbing hood.

"satoru, ah, satoru! 'toru!" it's all you can even manage right now, just chants and groans of his names, as he's practically sunken your hips into the mattress, while he's on his knees for the second time this night.

"hey, none of that, yeah?" and gojo's gently tugging at your arm. trying to get you to stop muffling your whimpers and cries, because he just needs to hear your adorable sounds. and he needs to hear your bird-like cries when you come undone.

what a joy it is for gojo. to be able to dive between your legs and run his tongue between your folds. he's losing his mind at how your body trembles under his touch, and how he makes the mistake of peering up at you. your lips are parted, open and glossy. and your brows are furrowed, as lashes flutter against your cheek. you have to cum, gojo satoru needs you to cum right now.

and so, he exerts all his effort ten fold into having you finish. it's so sloppy, and so messy. gojo lets his own eyes dip shut, letting himself feel your glossy, glistening cunt pulse around his tongue. and let there be no doubt that gojo satoru is a munch, for he's eating you out in such an ardent manner, and it basically sends you barrelling towards a heart-stopping orgasm, where tears spring to the corners of your eyes.

you needn't have even tried to warn him of your impending climax, for gojo knows in the way that your legs quiver and get sloppier over his face. stars fall over your vision as you heave and toss your head back, muscles rippling as "satoru, satoru!" falls from your lips, long and drawn out as the rest of the world goes dark around you.

you gasp, struggling to inhale as the syrupy air is stolen from your lungs, all while gojo runs his tongue through your folds, head spinning with the dizzying rush of sensation. it's as if you've been swept away, hurtling towards space, weightless and disorientated.

only to crash back into reality as gojo seemingly hasn't stopped letting himself taste all of you, with not a drop of arousal wasted. your back is further pressed into the soft mattress beneath you, and the surge of overstimulated numbness follows, all pleasurable pins and needles and ferocious need.

"look at that, 'm already addicted," gojo coos, almost to himself, scooping a finger through the translucent gloss that leaks from your cunt. bringing it up to his mouth to wrap his tongue around, "think you can handle giving me another one?"

you let out a weak, breathless laugh. your gaze lingering on gojo's face, the soft moonlight that casts an ethereal glow on his features. his chin still faintly gleams, coated in your mirror-sheen and his lips are a plump, rosy red. you part your lips, propping yourself onto your elbows, but before you can form the words, the door slams open with a force that makes your ears rattle.

"i've looked in every fuckin' room in this house, and i swear to everything holy, satoru. if you chose my bedroom, i'm gonna —"

geto suguru's voice cuts off mid-rant, his words dissolving into a strangled, pained gasp as he takes in the sight before him. gojo, kneeling between your legs, wearing a ridiculously pleased grin. just like the cat who got the cream. you let out a squeak, hastily tugging your skirt over you, but it's hard to look innocent when gojo is still unabashedly pawing at your thighs.

geto pales, his jaw going slack, and he looks like he's about to collapse, "god help me. satoru, i'll kill you tomorrow," and then he shoots you both a nasty look, "and you're both paying for new sheets."

"so you and gojo are...dating now?" choso pries, with a tone that is entirely too casual but his eyes are keen. your twin is nursing a cup of coffee while he absolutely demolishes a plate of fried eggs. he had been quiet so far, but it's clear that curiosity gave out and now he's peering at you like a big owl.

you try, or do your very best not to smile too hard. to not look giddy and ridiculously pleased, "yeah, i guess we are," you admit, keeping your voice as level as possible.

choso blinks once, before setting his fork down and shaking his head, "i knew it. it was only a matter of time," he mutters, and without further ado, he resumes shovelling eggs into his mouth, utterly unfazed.

before you can respond, sukuna appears in the doorway, leaning lazily against the frame, his tattooed arms crossed and his expression dripping with disdainful amusement, "oh, i was there," he drawls, sharp fangs flashing in a wicked grin, "that loser pulled the dumbest, most dramatic stunt of all time. got on his knees and everything."

choso freezes mid-chew, raising a thick brow as he glances at the older man with mild interest, "wish i'd seen that," he mumbles through a mouthful of toast.

to your utter astonishment, sukuna nods gravely, his face taking on an uncharacteristically serious look, "yeah. i've got a video if you wanna watch."

your jaw drops as you glance between them, "this is officially the first time that i've ever seen you two agree on anything," setting your mug down with a thud, "if i had known that dating gojo would bring about world peace, i would have done it ages ago and —"

yuuji bounds into the kitchen like an overeager puppy, his blush-pink hair still a mess from interrupted sleep. but he's clapping his hands together like he's just won the lottery, "finally! look at that! everyone's getting along for once."

sukuna doesn't even bother to hide his irritation, shooting yuuji a withering glare. but it's hard to take him seriously when his own pink hair rivals yuuji's in sheer disarray, "don't push it," sukuna warns darkly, grabbing a glass of orange juice and downing it in one morose gulp. he slams the empty, cold glass on the counter before stalking off towards the door, "i'm seriously gonna move out at this rate."

"promise?" choso quips, without missing a bit, "wish you'd stop getting our hopes up and actually do it."

yuuji is undeterred, and he elbows you with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop, "you have to invite gojo over all the time now. i like him a lot. he's like super cool."

"of course," you grin, sliding a plate towards him as he eagerly digs in.

and your younger brother beams like the sun itself. right as a mocking, high-pitched voice floats from the other room, "and then we're all gonna be lovesick, and skip around town while holding hands!" right before falling back into sukuna's usual gruff tone that echoes through the kitchen, "god, you're all so insufferable."

your phone buzzes on the table, and you glance down. gojo's contact photo lights up the screen. it's a snapshot from a year or two ago, taken the summer that you both graduated high school. he's standing at the edge of the beach, with the sun dipping low enough behind to catch his white hair. turning it into a halo of glowing light. it's a photo that you never had the heart to change.

satoru 🪐

good morning princess!! my one and only!!!! my sugar plum (too much? i can tone it down but you just can't put a lid on love) hope you dreamed of me 🙂‍↔️ so what are you doing today because i've got abt eight possible things we can cover today starting with [read more.]

"ugh, gross."

sukuna's disdainful drawl cuts through behind you, as an icy finger prods at your phone, trying to scroll up and snoop through your messages. you freeze and slam your phone down on the table. whirling around to come face to face with the world's most judgemental gargoyle sneers at you, "i think i'm gonna throw up."

"get a life, holy fuck."

[yawnderu]

>Simon has a neet weirdo as a best friend Or Simon Riley lets his best friend see his naked body for art references.

This wasn't the way Simon was expecting to spend his PTO; naked in his best friend's bed with his hand covering his soft cock, hoping not to make you uncomfortable as you took notes of his body's reactions.

“Can you like... get hard?” He was trying his best not to get hard, going as far as to think about gross things he's seen throughout the years to distract himself from the feeling of your nails raking up and down his bare stomach, defined muscles tensing and bulging beneath your palm.

“'S not how it works.” He grumbled out, tired brown eyes looking away from you. Simon isn't embarrassed— not at all, he's simply not used to someone inspecting him the way you are, curious eyes fully focused on his body, taking in every single tattoo and scar, living proof of how many times he's kicked death's ass.

“Well, just think about... I don't know, tits.” He lets out a dry chuckle at the awkwardness in your tone, trying your best to keep it professional in the name of art. He looks down at you with pure amusement the moment he sees your hand drifting up, tracing the outline of his defined, muscular pecs.

You take a second to fully admire the view in front of you, absent-mindedly starting to play with his erect nipple, not registering the way his breath hitches. Simon looks like a gladiator— lightly tanned skin making his rippling muscles stand out greatly, becoming the virtual image of ancient Greek fantasies, a plethora of scars showing how often he crosses the edge of death.

“Gettin' a bit touchy there.” His playful tone doesn't save the mild embarrassment, about to let go of his nipple before his rough, calloused hand grasps your wrist, encouraging you to keep touching him.

“'S working.” Simon's other hand moves out of the way slightly, just barely enough for you to see his hardening cock, veins starting to become more prominent along his long, meaty shaft. He doesn't protest when you move his hand out of the way, getting a perfect look at him.

“That's... oddly interesting.” The awkwardness coming from you never fails to amuse him, only making his ego inflate by the second, even when you look down at your notebook to keep taking notes of his body's reactions.

“Does it feel weird to get a boner?” He thinks about it for a few seconds before shaking his head, holding back a laugh at the blunt questions. In the name of art, she says.

“Not weird, just... I don't know, bird.” The expectant look that you give him distracts him for a second, trying to think of a better way to explain it.

“Feels good. Bit tingly most of the time, and you can feel it... y'know, grow.” Explaining what getting a boner feels like isn't the weirdest thing he's done for you, half-lidded brown eyes focused on the way you simply nod and keep taking notes, using his words as inspiration for the erotic novels he knows you write.

The room is almost quiet for a few minutes, Simon's breathing becoming harder being the only sound, feeling your soft hands caressing every single inch of his skin, feeling him up more than he can take... and ultimately edging him without even being aware, stopping to take notes every once in a while.

“I can show you how a man jacks off, too. For the sake of art, yeah?”

[madamechrissy]

Pour it Up

Pairings: Stripclub Owner Sukuna x Stripper F!reader

Summary:- You are a single mother, your baby daddy is not just worthless, he also is actively trying to sabotoge you, so you go out on your own and raise your kid by yourself. Struggling your ass off, a friend of a friend named Toji decides to offer you a hell of a deal, a few hours a night at a strip club to make BANK. While there, you meet the other owner, Sukuna, and the moment he sees you? You annoy him how beautiful you are, how much he wants you, pushing him to insanity. He knows he must have you- no matter whose ass he needs to beat.

Warnings:- reader is a mom, lowkey/highkey Yandere Sukuna behavior (He's obsessed- down bad) recreational drug use, drug dealing Sukuna (the club lowkey a front lol) Mafia ties, EXPLICIT sexual content, fluff/smut AND light angst- violence, some former trauma of reader. This part- SO MUCH SEX, so much whipped Kuna lol Oral sex (Female receiving) fingering, marathon sex, multiple positions, mating press, creampie, cum eating, shower sex, tummy bulge, spitting, dirty talk (Kuna says slut and whore) - WC-6.9k

Based on Stripclub Owner Sukuna - will be six or more parts-I HIGHLY recommend the playlist (At least on the club scenes) That mobster art in the banner is by Sketch B on X- LINK

<<<Part two - Playlist - Masterlist - Part Four>>>

Part Three

‘You’re getting no sleep tonight’

Sukuna’s big, expensive jacket falls down, pooling at your ankles, before he turns you, unclasping your bra and leaving brutal kisses along your neck, your shoulders, nipping and licking while your head falls to the side, allowing him more access. Your breasts are heaving up and down while his hands slip down your panties, and finally he’s unbuckling your heels.

When he does you’re so ridiculously tiny next to this giant of a man it’s laughable, everyone really is, but the thrill of it just excites you more, as your head falls back to look at him, and your fingers are unbuttoning so fast they shake. He chuckles, “That excited huh?”

“Shush.” Is all you manage, but you are, so curious to the muscle you can feel against you, slipping off his shirt then and biting your lip at how gorgeous his body actually is.

Rippled muscles, tattoos running down his neck to his chest, his abdomen, black lines that just enhance the lines and cuts of his abdomen. Your hands touch his thick chest, well formed pectoral muscles tensing as you trail your fingers down, each rippling abdominal, until you find a line of dark hair under his belly button, and you hear his breath catch.

“Sukuna, you're kind of beautiful.”

“Kinda what now? Did I already lick your lil head dumb?” You laugh softly, shaking your head at him, pressing a kiss on his chest. “Shit…” He moans out, hand enwrapping in your hair.

You expect more taunts or teases, but he’s just watching you intently, sooty pink lashes lowering, as you unzip his pants, sliding them down, and then reach his black boxers and pull the waistband. His thick, heavy cock comes into your view, your pussy is throbbing around literally nothing, picturing just how this will fit.

Precum is smeared along his tip, his piercing, and your eyes shoot up to watch his cheeks dusted pink, you smile just a bit. “Are you blushing, Mr. Sukuna?”

“Blushing? Tch…” He scowls at you now, before you know it you’re swooped up in his arms, as his blushing tip of his cock lines up with your drooling hole, and you’re whining out, pussy soaking him, he feels your heat and damn near cums from rubbing on it. “Pathetic.”

“Hmm?” You mumble.

“You’re pathetic for me, aren’t you?” You just nod weakly, but Sukuna may or may not be talking about himself, he’s pathetic for you.

You’re more than ready from him drinking you up in the car, but you’re so tight, and he’s so thick it’s stupid, those nine inches just barely pressing in as the cool wall is flush on your back, pressing against your shoulder blades, while your front is pressed on Sukuna. You’re trembling as you try to take any of him as all, just the tip has you spasming.

Sukuna thought he could handle you, he thought he’d fuck you so good against this damn wall, slam your cervix as he holds you up against this wall, but the moment he’s inside you? The moment your slick walls suck him in, and your walls are fluttering around just the tip he’s inserted in your sticky, gooey little pussy, the moment your eyes shoot up to his, and your lips part?

Sukuna is ended.

You end him to the point he pauses, used to rough sex and pummeling a pussy, drilling like he’s made for it, instead his breath catches, and he’s resting his forehead on yours for a moment, while you cling to him tightly. He feels your manicured nails pressing into his biceps, your thighs trembling, cunt dripping as you try to take any of him at all.

Your breaths mix, yours is so sweet it intoxicates him, pushing in just a little more, seeing if you can take it, and fuck you try to, but he’s so thick it burns, you can barely cling to him for any sense of reality. You look up at ruby red eyes, your mouth open in a cry as he pulls back, pushing even further in, one hand leaving your ass as he presses you into the wall.

His other hand comes to grip yours, fingers entwining over your head, your hand is engulfed in his huge one, you feel so tiny in his hold, in his arms, wrapped around this thick, veiny cock you’re trying to take. Your breaths come quicker when he holds your hand, when he pauses, when his eyes get lidded, pupils shrunk to pinpoints, making the rubies that are his eyes even more intense.

“Fuck…” Is all he manages, his heart beating in his chest, pounding against the softness of your breasts, as something just clicks, something snaps all at once, swirling his mind, looking at your pretty face, the tears in your eyes. “Too much, brat?” He huffs, trying to act calm, like he’s not losing it for you.

You take a shaky breath, crying out when he presses deeper, you feel him everywhere, his cock so deep inside you, feel him in your tummy, god you feel him in your head. It’s overwhelming, as he clutches your hand so tightly, the things you feel already for this man are far beyond his dick, his hands, his lips, it’s how he’s looking at you, how he’s holding your hand.

You shake your head, reaching one hand to cup his face then, making him feel far too much, so much he swallows, feeling nerves that a man like him shouldn’t, god you make him feel like some high school idiot. If he was a more romantic man he’d write some poems or shit, but he sure wasn’t going that far, but it takes everything to hold in words that are threatening to spill.

Foolish words.

He’s pussy drunk off three thrusts, then by four you’re whining out his name- “Sukuna!” And he’s done for.

He kisses you brutally, hands back on your ass, pounding inside your slick heat as you bite on his neck, making him hiss, your nails scratching at his back when his drooling tip kisses your cervix. “F-fuck… biting me, huh brat?” He manages to huff, and you just whimper, head falling back as he fucks into you more and more, the wet sounds filling his empty penthouse.

He’s maddened by you, how good you feel, as you feel the stretch, feel your pussy trying to accommodate him, and he’s pressing in, rolling his hips just so, pulling back to watch as your face contorted in pleasure. “There you go, cum for me, like a perfect lil’ slut, huh?”

You nod weakly, sniffling as he presses you even closer, you feel the pressure building, as his piercing hits something so good, and you’re tightening around it, screaming out. “Y-yes, yes, I’m gonna- ah!”

“That’s it, f-fuckin’ feel you.” He huffs, strong muscles tensing as you convulse around his cock.

How can he even handle you if in a few thrusts you’re trying to milk his cock for everything!?

“Oh my god, mnh!” He’s pushing off the wall now, carrying you to a sleek leather couch, where he pulls out, cock already dripping precum, mixing with your soaking wet arousal. He turns you and slips a hand to your clit, you’re whining at the loss of his cock, as you drip down his fingers. “Please, back in.”

“So needy already, huh?” He’s needy for you though, as he presses you down, arching your pretty ass up and groaning at the sight. “Fuck, look at that.” He smacks your ass, each cheek bouncing for him, before spreading them, guiding his thick cock back inside.

“Yes, please, please… ah!” You’re shuddering when he’s pulling your hair at the nape of your neck, sinking back in so deep, piercing on his cock hitting just that spot as the tip drags along your walls, and you’re gripping at the couch as he bends you further, arching your ass up for more.

“Feel her, so fuckin’ perfect, pussy is just made f’me, huh?” You nod weakly as he fucks into you, rougher now, acting as if the moment before wasn’t so intimate that he almost cried sliding in for the first time.

Nothing feels as good as you.

You can’t find a coherent word to respond when black painted nails press into your hips, and he’s starting to fuck you, and fuck you harder than you’ve ever had, you’re barely able to take his thickness, his length, as it slams your cervix over and over. You try to catch a breath, drool spilling out of your mouth as heavy balls slap against your clit, as his pelvis smacks your ass over and over.

“Didn’t hear you answer me.” He huffs, smacking an ass cheek now, grinning ferally at your whine, as your pussy clenches him even tighter.

“Wh-what was the q-question?” He’s leaning so his lips press against your ear, tickling you, making your tummy tense as he sinks inside so deep.

“That pussy, is it made f’me?” He asks again, and you nod, earning a gentle slap on the face. “Use those words.”

“Made for you.” Sukuna’s lost in you then, in how good you feel, in your every cry and moan, his own eyes rolling back in the ecstasy that was your slutty, squishy little pussy, before making himself focus, because he can’t miss looking at you like this.

Arched up and perfect, he pauses just a moment, taking a breath as your walls grip him like a vise. “Gripping me so greedy, shit baby.” He mumbles, as you both gasp for a breath.

“Mnh! S’good I- f-fuck, Sukuna…” Sukuna groans out loud, the wet slaps louder and louder as he loses control, loses himself, urged on by how your body shakes, how he sees a little trail of drool right on the side of your jaw, since when did he notice shit like this!?

You’re ruining him with every stroke, all he can think of is making you cum again and again, have you cum so much it makes up for years of you not, and he slams in, rolling his hips again, watching you shudder, thighs shaking as you start gushing around his cock, making a sticky mess. “That’s it, slutty pussy so greedy hmm?”

You weakly nod, as he now feels your aftershocks, gripping two of your wrists together behind your back and fucking you harder, propping your ass up even higher on the arm of it so your legs are just dangling there. He props a knee up even high, hitting some angle that blinds you. “Ah!”

“Gonna fuck every worry outta that pretty lil’ fuckin’ head.” He huffs, bending low over you, wrapping an arm around your waist just to sink impossibly deeper, stuffing as much of his cock in you as he can fit, a creamy ring forming at the base of his cock the more he strokes. “F-feel s’good, fuck… perfect pussy, y’know that?” You shake your head weakly, and he sighs, letting go of your wrists then.

You’re like some little ragdoll to him the way he picks you up, the way he moves you, now slipping his cock out of your pussy and carrying you again, all you can do is cling to his naked body, eyes fluttering in and out of focus. He plops you down on that bed of his, you errantly notice it’s huge, a four post bed that’s covered in black and silky sheets and blankets.

You also notice a sex swing, thinking what the fuck, and you also see some crazy X on the wall, there are whips and all sorts of things, he chuckles as you eye them, cupping your face with his big hands, strong body leaning heavy weight over you. “I’m not using any of this shit on you, brat, stop freaking out.”

“I… it’s okay if you do like that, but I don’t know about-”

“Shh.” He kisses you deeply then, you feel too much, far too fucking much for this man. “Ignore the swing, innocent little thing huh?”

“Not even.” You glare at him, but he’s grinning and shaking his head, watching as he rubs that tip between your swollen folds.

“Having more than enough fun with this soaking little pussy, don’t need anything else right now.”

The insanity of his room melts, as he looks at you, really looks at you, and you drag him down for another kiss, pussy already sore and aching but you want so much more of him, you want everything. When he’s pulling back and smirking, a huge hand on your tummy, you look down and see it, this bulge of his cock.

“F-fuck… look at that, fucking you up, huh brat?” He huffs, slowly moving it, so obscene you’re blushing, then gasping out as he presses your legs up high, folding you in half under him, hitting even deeper now, your hips are bucking back at it, how deep he is, how full you are. “Ah-ah, don’t run now.”

“Too much. Too big.” He’s moaning as he eases your thighs down just a bit, instead hooking one over an elbow.

“Brat can’t take dick huh?”

“Sukuna… y-you’re a-”

“I’m a what baby?” He’s slamming his cock so deep you scream, soaking him further, hands gripping the silken material under you, head falling back as he grips your hips bruisingly.

“You’re too much, mmm.” You whimper out, he laughs softly, leaning over you again, pulling out just to slam his length back in, and then your eyes hit his, and he can’t take how beautiful you are.

“Drooling, huh slutty girl?” He cooes, swiping at your face, you just moan, as he slips his thumb between your lips, you’re slobbering all around it as he fucks faster and faster, slamming and pressing you even deeper into the firm mattress, taking over all of your senses, it’s all Sukuna, when he finally slows, kissing down your throat and biting hard.

“Ah!”

“Mmm, ya taste good everywhere.” He’s groaning as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, as one of your hands entangle in his silky hair, and the other grips the taut muscles of his back. “Feel her squeezing me, fuckin’ milking me, f-fuck…”

“Sukuna, m’gonna cum again, ngh!” You’re whining, so overstimulated, when he uses one elbow to brace himself, the other hand slipping between you as pinches your little clit, you scream so loud your voice is hoarse.

“That’s it, can’t help yourself hmm? Gonna cum again, so easy?”

“For you… easy for…” Your vision goes black as you gasp out for any sort of breath, and he’s rolling his rough finger right on it. “S-sensitive!”

“Cum again, lemme feel her, shit- mmm.” You’re gushing and pulsing, you hear the sounds now, how wet you really are, mixed with his moans as he watches your pretty face while you cum, knowing he could never get tired of the sight. “There you go, good girl.”

You’re lost again, clinging to him and crying tears, he thinks how pretty they look coming down your cheeks as he is getting close, your walls clamping down with the force of your orgasms. “C-can’t take m-more…”

“You can, baby, hah don’t tap out yet.” He’s grinning all insane when he leans over you fully, bodies flush, your legs wrapped around his thick waist, squeezing against him as he slows finally, just a bit, letting you catch a breath, both of your eyes locking again. “Do I gotta get a morning after pill?”

You catch his meaning, blushing furiously, as he slides out slowly, almost to the tip, before shoving back in to get your attention. “Wh-what?”

“Birth control, brat, I’m not pulling out. Wanna paint your pretty insides with all my fuckin cum.” His words are filthy, he’s filthy, but you want it then, crave it, he watches how your eyes glitter, how your lips part, smirking down at you. “Ya want it, don’t you? Me to fill up your slutty pussy hah?”

“Please… no need for… a-after pill, m’on the p-pill, f-fuckkt…” It’s impossible to focus when he’s fucking you harder now again, smirking down as he knows he’d bust in you regardless.

“Gonna fill you up s’fucking good, gonna drip my cum out as you’re dancing, for men who can never fucking have you.” You’re just a mess now, incoherent when he shoves your legs over his shoulders and pummels you, the loud slap slap slap echoing in his slutty, freaky ass room, along with your pathetic little cries.

“Please… cum in me…” Your words are it for him, he’s pressing inside, and you hear it then, that whimper you heard sucking him, as his eyelashes flutter and those muscles tense, a drip of sweat slipping down to the base of his cock as he thrusts in once more so deep, in your damn cervix, and he starts to fill you, flooding you with ropes of his hot cum.

“Oh my f-fucking… feel s-so…” Sukuna’s slamming his lips down on yours, something he just doesn’t do, as he busts inside your slick walls, his cock pulsing more and more of that gooey cum all in you, moaning against your lips. “She’s so greedy, she w-wants every drop, mmm.”

You’re just shaking as he fills you, back lifting off the bed as his arm wraps you, yanking you further down his dripping cock, pumping you so full you feel it in your stomach, you’re clinging to him as he drinks your cries. He’s kissing you over and over, messy, sloppy, desperate as your muscles are spasming, pushing his own cum down his cock with the force.

“Never felt something that good, jesus fuck…” He’s groaning, biting at your lower lip, resting his forehead for a moment and feeling far too intimate, even more intimate than his cum filling your warm pussy.

“Mnh… It’s so much…”

He laughs a bit, breathless, kissing you again before easing back finally, looking at the marks from his teeth, his fingers, his hands all over your pretty body. He exhales, running his fingers down your thighs, watching goosebumps rise, watching you twitch and jerk.

“S-sensitive…”

“Are you now?” You nod barely, as he kisses down your neck, tongue lapping at the little drops of perspiration from your skin as you whimper, and he finally pulls his cock out, looking down at it. “What a mess we made, huh pretty little slut?”

“Mnh, d-did we?” Your room is spinning, and he’s grinning as he pulls back, watching the sloppy, sticky mess pour down his perfect bedding. “Oh! Oh…”

“Yeah oh, you’re cute.” He chuckles at your narrowed eyes, leaning up on your elbows as he fingers at the sticky cum all over your cunt. “She’s so puffy, hah look at this.”

“Sukuna… w-what are you doing!?” He’s shoving your thighs up high, grinning.

“Hold em up.”

“Why!? We just… mnh!” Sukuna is lapping his own cum right out of your pussy, you’re so overstimulated you’re crying, hiccuping as you yank at that pink hair, his huge hands taking over your ass, your thighs as they threaten to close.

“Taste us together, god.” He’s groaning as he laps up and scoops his own cum that’s just pouring out of your hole with that long pink tongue, making his cock that was satiated twitch again with need for you, as your thighs are squishing his head, earning his scowl. “I said, keep em open.”

“C-can’t, what even are you Sukuna?” You whisper breathless, thinking he’s some sort of demon as he’s chuckling against a puffy little cunt, leaning and forcefully shoving your thighs apart.

“Wanna taste us, brat?” He whispers, and you pause your squirming, breasts heaving with the effort it takes to take him.

“Yes.”

He moans, scooping more of his own cum out of your pussy, his taste buds brushing on your walls before he leans up, gripping your chin and putting two fingers to your lips, opening your mouth. Your tongue hangs out as he spits then, all his cum mixing with his saliva as it drips down in a filthy string into your open mouth, your eyes widen at it, your pussy clenching again.

“Swallow, now.” He orders, and you eagerly do, making him moan, saliva still dripping just a bit from his plump lips, which turn up, he now kisses you, swapping his cum between your tongues, and you’re gripping him with your little fingers, whining. “Remember I told you to eat?”

“Y-yes…” You manage, swallowing his salty sweet cum down, lashes lowering as you study his tongue swiping across his tongue so lewd and sexy, just making you ready again.

“You’re really gonna wish you listened.” You blink before he’s got you flipped to your hands and knees, and you feel the piercing tickling your slit, your clit, you whine out at it, head falling forward as your body is shaking.

“Again- already!?”

“How pathetic was that lil’ bitch you were with?” He practically growls then, spreading your ass cheeks and pussy lips open to peer at you, all red and beat up, just making his sticky cock harder. “Never went back to back?”

“What even is that, I- oh my god.” Sukuna’s not just easing in this time, no he’s slid all the way in your entrance, bottoming out and stuffing you full, you cry out, head buried in the blankets, as his thumbs press into the dimples of your back.

“You think once is enough for me? Of this? Of you? Oh, fuck no, need more and more of this.” He’s slamming into your cunt, hitting even more angles as your ass archess, one of his hands sliding up to wrap in your hair, pulling it until your back is curved, and your head falls back. “Can’t get enough of you.”

His words along with his cock fuck every thought out of your head, just like he said, as he has you on your knees, one hand now wrapping your throat, and your head turns to look at him, vision fading in and out. 

“Want it?” He asks gruffly, as he squeezes your throat. You nod weakly, and his ruby eyes light up. “Trust me?”

“I do trust you.” You whisper, he pauses for a moment, thinking of more words he’d love to hear, to say, but then he’s sinking into your heat, moaning and laying you on your tummy, prone over you.

“Gonna be all me, huh perfect little whore? All me?” You whimper as he takes you over, hooking one leg across yours and sinking impossibly deep, squeezing your throat, you’re lightheaded, you’re floating. He’s whispering in your ear, “All me, all mine, no one’s gonna fuckin’ touch you.”

You can’t imagine wanting anything else, you’re weak as you nod, as he squeezes your oxygen from your little neck with his big hand, his long fingers, sinking into your pussy so deep you can’t tell where you begin and he ends. It is all him, all Sukuna, as he chokes you, as he fucks you, as he kisses you, moaning as you’re cumming all over his cock again.

“Mnh- f-fuck… can’t help yourself, can you?” He’s gruffly talking shit, but as he feels you tighten again he’s close to cumming all over, he releases your throat, seeing your reddened face, kissing you again all sloppy. Your teeth click, tongues dripping down, while he’s crying out. “Want more inside you? Me to fill you till you can’t even fuckin walk?”

“Please!” Your little cry destroys him, he’s cumming in you like this so fucking intimate, kissing you as he fills your pussy again, pushing his cum up and inside your pussy further.

Sukuna was not kidding about no sleep, despite him not putting you in the sex swing or handcuffing you- yes there is an entire cuffing system for his bed- no, he’s having more than enough fun using your pretty body. Every position, several rounds of cum stuffing in your pussy, until he finally allows you a water break, and you truly can’t stand, he has to hold you up.

He’s laughing as you gulp down water, body shaking still, so weak from how much he’s fucked you, more than maybe you’ve ever fucked in a year in the matter of hours. Your hand is so shaky the water slips off the sides, making him have to take the cup from you, his hand cupping your face, putting the glass to your lips.

“Little brat can’t function?” He hums, you sigh, leaning against him, head on his chest, feeling his thrumming heart beat.

“You’re not human, I’m convinced.” He smirks then.

“We’re just getting started.”

“Huh!?”

“I’m giving you a moment.” He leans forward and bends at the waist, pressing you against the counter, completely naked. You should be insecure or embarrassed, shy maybe, because as a stripper you still had certain things covered, but you really couldn’t care about that, not with him. “Look at this body, fuck…”

“You’re sweet to me.”

“Sweet? You should look at those handprints on your ass.” You giggle a bit, but when he’s kissing you again, you’re melting, feeling so much it makes your throat close up, your heart racing, as you lean up, eager for more. “Let’s clean up.”

“Yes please.” He brushes your hair back, all messy from the amount of times he’s pulled it, buried his face in it, ran his fingers through it. It feels… 

“Perfect.”

“Hmm?” You murmur, eyes shutting as he kisses your forehead, far too sweet a gesture for a man like Sukuna, but you’re annoyingly turning him into mush, and he really can’t stand it.

“Said perfect.”

“Me?”

“Yes you, annoying brat.” You giggle, shaking your head. “Don’t make me fuck every insecurity out of you dumb little head.”

“Excuse me? I can’t tell if you’re being sweet or an ass.” He just raises his brows, you shove at him, laughing, then he’s picking you up in his arms, you cling to his neck, breathless.

“Gotta carry you all around and shit, huh? Can’t walk?”

“You like to do it, stop lying.” He hides his smile in your messy hair, as he eases you to sit, starting the shower now, the steam rising around you as soon as you step in, looking at just how luxurious it is, multiple shower heads amongst pretty tan marble tiles, little white ones warmed under your feet when he leads you in. “This shower is nicer than my existence.”

He snorts at that, shaking his head, eying your body covered in forming bruises, feral thinking that everyone will now know you’re his. Even if it hasn’t been explicitly stated yet, he already knows it for the both of you. He feels this annoying ass tenderness for you, as he watches the hot droplets cascading off your sexy, pretty little body, your head falling back, eyes closed in enjoyment.

Soon Sukuna is standing behind you, his hands immediately on your shoulders, rubbing the knots out, making you lean into his touch. “This is heaven.” You murmur, his hands slipping down to your hair, brushing it to the side and leaning low, his lips against your ear.

“Mm, it’s just a shower, brat, I can make you feel way better, hmm?” He says, voice low, his cock hardening again for you, poking at your back thick and hot, but he doesn’t move on it yet, just lets the warm water run over the both of you.

“Better than anything.” You feel yourself leaning more on him, as the water is  washing away the sticky mess of your love making, the heat making your skin tingle as his thick cock pulses. Your heat in your tummy starts again, and your nipples perk up, he eyes them, his hands gripping them, eliciting a cry from you, your ass arching more against him.

“Better than anything, huh?”

“Anything.” At your whisper he’s got you turning around, your hands slip up his slick chest to his shoulders, watching the water running down his abs, his cock with that reddened tip fully hard again, and he’s just staring at you with those ruby eyes, gulping at how much you make him feel with those words. “What’s that look, Sukuna?”

“Thinking about everything I’m gonna do to you.” You bite your lower lip, as his hands find purchase at the nip of your waist. “I’m gonna fuck you again, and again, until you can’t even think of anyone else but me.”

“Sukuna, there is no one else I think of.” You whisper, leaning up as he leans down, and you kiss him, deep and sloppy and so desperate, and he groans, grabbing your thighs, hoisting you up so you wrap around his waist.

“Only me in that pretty head, only my cock inside your tight lil’ fucking cunt, huh?” Your legs are shaking as you’re pressed against the slippery tile wall, his possessive words just making you wetter. “Say it.”

“Only you.” Sukuna exhales, his grip is firm on your ass, as he starts to fuck you again, his cock sliding in so easily, because of how much you’ve cum already, how much he’s fucked you, stretched your little pussy out.

The water is hot on your skin, but not as hot as his touch, not as warm as his body, as he whispers filthy things that sound like pretty love confessions. “Perfect little slut, made f’me, hah- made to take my cock, yeah?”

You just nod weakly, feeling his cock hit your g-spot with that piercing again, your nails digging into his shoulders and slipping as the water pummels both of you, burning hot. You’re so sore then, but you crave it, crave more, gasping out, toes curling as he shoves in so deep, rolling his hips and pulling back.

“Look at that pretty face, so fucked out.” He murmurs, watching while he lifts and slams you down on his cock, your eyes roll back, mouth open in an O, he knows you’re close again. “That’s it, pathetic slut can’t help cumming, so cock hungry?”

“Mnh!” You are just too fucked out to answer anymore, when he’s got his hand on your neck, his thumbs pressing gently on your pulse point, tilting your chin up.

“Look at me when you cum all over my cock, brat.” You struggle to focus, then you’re shattering again, so lost in his eyes that you don’t even realize when he’s cumming again, until he’s moaning and kissing you brutally, filling you up so hot all in your tummy. “How many loads- hah- you gonna take?”

“Shh- f-fuck!” You’re riding it out, the orgasm him painting your walls gives you, as you’re kissing down his neck, clinging to him weakly.

“Perfect girl, made to be filled by me. Just me.” You sigh, as he eases out of you, then eases you to stand, legs wobbly. “Just me.”

“Sukuna… you’re insane.” He smirks now, shaking his head.

“You really got no idea.”

After the night, you got absolutely no sleep. Aside from literally passing out on him with his cock in you, he woke you up with a not so gentle smack on your ass, as you were bent over in doggy and fading out. You’d sleepily grumbled until he finally decided to cuddle you in his bed, and fuck you feel so good in his arms.

Too good.

Sukuna’s cock was prodding at your entrance, even as you’re in his dress shirt, and you hiss in pain as he touches it, as his tip presses against you, and he’s toying with your puffy little clit. “Need you again.”

“I c-can’t, Kuna…” You whisper, pathetic and weak, half asleep in this man’s strong arms.

He pauses then. “Kuna? The fuck is that?”

You’re loopy, smiling back at him, eyes lidded and barely open, bare faced and beautiful to him, the moonlight glinting through the window now and illuminating your pretty face. “Issa nickname…”

“Stupid.” He huffs, earning another tired giggle, no drug or liquor could ever feel like being fucked out by Sukuna, you’re sure of it. “You’re cockdrunk, tch.”

“S’your fault, Kuna.” You’re giggling as he scowls, cupping your face, the fan whirling softly above you both as you feel the silk against your skin from him shuffling under the blankets.

“Stop the stupid nickname, brat.” He orders, you shake your head then. “You are a brat, not listening for shit.”

“You love it. Shh.” You kiss him so sweetly, he melts against you, pulling you close as he exhales against your lips, drowning in you. “Can I get jus’ a couple hours, I have my kid tomorrow.” You yawn then, and he pulls back, frowning.

“Can’t you stay tomorrow too? I will pay her more.” You blink sleepily, shaking your head.

“No, too much time… I’ll miss Touma.” You’re fading, and Sukuna feels too goddamn much, as he stares at you, as he thinks of the ripping feeling in his heart at you ever leaving.

Would he have to just move in the damn kid!?

Would you even go for this?

It’s too soon and it’s stupid but he cuddles you then, thinking of stupid, stupid things, a girl that makes him question too much just existing. When you snuggle against him, and he holds you, he wants to keep you here so badly it makes him almost sick, your little sleepy smile as you murmur a stupid nickname.

What have you done to him?

*****

“Ow, ow, ow, ow.” You’re hissing as Sukuna is chuckling at you, while you’re wobbling out to his car, wearing his jacket and your pajamas underneath, your hair insane from falling asleep after the second shower.

Six times he fucked you.

Six times he busted inside you.

Six times!?

That’s not counting the amount of times he had his face buried between your thighs, or the times he was fucking your throat. That was just the amount of loads he’d pumped in your pussy. He’s leaned back in his seat, you get to see one of his cars, some fancy sports thing, that purrs as he starts it, chuckling at you.

“Poor baby can’t take all this dick, can she?”

“Sukuna, that's not fair. Tell me this isn’t normal!?” He pauses then, sighing a bit as he drives.

“No, that much isn’t normal for me either.” He murmurs, before his smirk is back, eyeing your pained expression. “Are you doing okay?”

“No, I am not.” Your tummy rumbles then, and you blush in embarrassment.

“Want food on the way home?”

“No, you don’t have to…”

“Let’s just swing through somewhere.” It feels too comfortable, too perfect, his hand on your thigh as he drives, it feels like you’re all his, truly like you’re meant to be there, and that should scare the shit out of him. But he’s too far gone to be scared of it at all.

“Okay, thank you.” You yawn cutely, melting him despite his cocky, arrogant little attitude he presents. He swings through a breakfast place soon, and you lean forward. “Um, Touma likes french toast.”

“What about you, brat?”

“Me… um… in a second.” You’re rattling off things for your kid, irritating him since your tummy is clearly growling again.

“And for you?” He asks again, scowling now, you giggle a bit.

“Protein for recovery needed. Egg and sausage?”

He rolls his eyes, ordering it, slapping at your hand when it goes to your purse. “The fuck are you doing?”

“Kuna, it’s for my kid too.” He frowns once more, smacking your hand again, like you’re some little kid touching what you shouldn’t.

“Don’t call me Kuna, shit. Also, hell no, I’ll pay, it’s literally nothing.” You ease back a bit, as he hands you the bags and drink holder, smiling at him. “Stop that, it’s nothing.”

“It’s sweet. Really sweet.” You tear up a bit by the time you’re home, earning a further look of confusion on his face.

“Don’t cry over some cheap breakfast, shit.”

“No you’re just… Sukuna it’s been all me, everything, just this one little thing… it was sweet.” You murmur, eyes glimmering, and he realizes then, just what you must have been through, at least some of it, if this meant anything to you at all.

“Well, just… just let me do shit for you all the time, then. Stop bitching about it.” He says with narrowed eyes, and you giggle just a bit, the sound tightening his chest far too much when you lean forward, little hand brushing against his jaw as you lean forward.

“Last night was… there are no words. I hope um, it wasn’t once?” You whisper, and Sukuna drags you against him right in front of your house, one hand pressed on your waist as he looks at you.

“I did fuck your brains out, if you think that’s all I want. The fuck? You think I don’t want you every day and night.” You exhale in relief, kissing him then, so sweetly he should make it rough, right? He should grip a titty, your ass, bite your lip, anything but kiss back just as tenderly, inhaling the sweet scent of you filling the car, mixing with the breakfast sitting in your lap.

“Even if it’s just um… sex. I’ll do it, Kuna. I feel so good with you.” He should rejoice in this, a man who just wants that, wants it easy in life, but his jaw clenches when he cups your face.

“I fucked every braincell out.” You laugh, shaking your head. “That’s not… tch, not all I… y’know get out, brat. Annoying.”

You smile at him, knowing what he means as his jaw clenches, pressing a kiss on the cleft of his chin, then nuzzling your nose against his, far too sweet, far too cute, destroying him with every precious moment. Making him a little bitch, soon he’d be ordering fruity drinks like goddamn Gojo, what you do to him, with your cheeks and eyes all bright, your smile.

God, your smile.

He sees then, behind you, a little boy, he looks just like you, along with a blue haired girl, standing on your front porch. You turn your face then, smiling so pretty his stupid heart hurts. “I should go now, will I see you at work tonight?”

“Of course you will.” He says, voice husky, as he leans to un-seatbelt you, curiously looking out again.

Would he ever meet your kid?

Would you all ever really… get that far?

What would Sukuna even say to a damn kid? It’s not like he has been around any, or had thoughts of having his own, but he wants every part of you, and if this is the biggest, he suddenly feels the need to know about it. “You love that kid huh?”

“More than anything. But… someone is occupying my heart kind of fast.” Your breathy whisper is met with his widened ruby eyes, when you kiss him once more, smiling sweetly. “I’ll see you tonight, Kuna.”

“Tch.” Is all you get, but Sukuna watches, as you pick up your little boy in your arms, grinning happily, and your kid is smacking kisses on your cheek, melting him more than he’ll admit when he drives off, missing you already.

You miss him the moment he drives off, sighing happily at Touma then, who is squeezing your neck so tight. “Mama, I had so much fun!”

“Did you!?”

“So much! Miwa made cookies!”

“I saw! I’ve got french toast.”

Touma’s eyes light up. “Yum!” Then when you’re inside, arranging breakfast after Miwa leaves, he tugs at your hair.

“What is it, baby?” You ask, leaning down as he’s got one hand clamped around a french toast stick.

“Mama looks happy.” Your lips tremble at his assessment, eyes tearing up at his next words. “Mama doesn’t smile a lot.”

“I’m so sorry, Touma. Mama gets tired, but you always make me happy.” You’re crying now, as he touches you with sticky french toast fingers, cinnamon brushing across your cheek.

“No mama, I’m happy. You smile. Pretty.” You grin now, and Touma grins. “Pretty, mama is pretty.”

“And you’re the most handsome boy.” You pull him against you, the love in your heart filling you completely, as you kiss his soft hair. “Touma you always make me happy, even if I don’t show it. Mama gets a little stressed out.”

“S’okay mama.” You kiss his forehead sweetly, then he’s off to playing when you clean up, thinking of Sukuna.

He made you smile.

He makes you feel so good.

Sure, physically, but how his hands entwined with yours? How he looked at you? You don’t know if he’ll get serious, but everything in you craves more of him, to know more of him, than just the physical. Both of you still know so little, but it’s like he’s given this brightness in a dark world, where Touma was all you had for that, but you realize your stress and sadness affected him even.

You absolutely nap with Touma in his little toddler bed, snoring and cuddling, because honestly Sukuna has worn you out. Your phone keeps going off after a couple hours, and Touma hands it to you, smacking on your face to wake you up. “Mama, it’s daddy.”

Your heart stops then, pounding in your chest as you take the phone, holding it to your ear. “What?” You say tersely, earning Naoya’s chuckle.

“I’m outside, sweetheart, wanna let me in?”

This chap absolutely was smut filled, reader needed this okay!?!? The next we will be getting back into the plot- clearly Naoya is here. I planned on six parts but it may go longer bc there's a lot I need to do lol. I hope to hear what you think <3

Taglist #1 @naammiii @naina326 @1worm1 @yenayaps @shokosbunny @sukubusss @msniks @kittyyyyykats @nyxly1412 @trashsuarecan @dumbbunny98 @monster-effer @tojis-ball-sack @tangsakura @friesnkwtchup @uhnosav @lhhlver @attackonnat @moonchhu @mat-mat-mat @cherryjain17 @havkjhdecs @stargirl-mayaa @waterfal-ling @the-dark-creature @lulunx @saitamaswifey @spacefae-x @deitysdream @sorahatake @gojoscumslut @stainednailpolishremover @kidd3ath @clp-84 @rinkomei @catastayy @oneirataxiaa @inthedarkshadows000 @travistheaussie @cold-blooded-girls @emi311 @blublublubby @fluttershyfangs @actuallynarii @7thsthings @ilovemeni @erluu @for-hearthand-home @angellliqua

(rest in reblogsss)

Buy me a glass of wine🍷 - Gen Masterlist

[chleem]

Rest of my life

One shot: bf drew x gf yn

Summary: babysitting drew’s niece leads to the realization that you’re the one for him.  

Genre: established relationship, fluff

Warnings: so sweet u get cavities

⋆.˚ don't copy or translate my work

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Which girl did you knock up?” 

Is the first thing you say upon entering Drew’s apartment, your eyes landing on Drew, who has a baby securely strapped against his stomach in a white carrier, the baby looking over at you with doe eyes. 

Drew freezes for a second, then shakes his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he sets a large bag down on the kitchen table. "Oh, y’know, some girl I met on set."

There’s a reason why you and Drew are perfect for each other; the playful banter comes so naturally between you two that it feels like breathing, like there’s no awkwardness in this situation; finding Drew with a baby you’ve never seen before. 

Although, this baby looks oddly familiar. 

“Remember Lils?” Drew asks, as you walk over to him, setting your own bag on the table as well. 

Your eyes light up at the name, recalling the times Drew would show you pictures of his niece. “Oh hi,” you immediately pitch your voice higher, making it soft and playful. The baby, with her big, curious eyes, reaches out her tiny hand, and before you even know it, she’s grabbing onto your finger. 

Her little grip is surprisingly strong, and you can’t help but smile at how adorable she is. “She grew so big,” you comment, looking up at Drew. 

He’s got a soft smile on his lips. “I’know, and I got her for the whole day.”

Your raise an eyebrow playfully at him, “I thought we’re going to the beach today.”

“Yeah, we are,” he emphasizes on that word, his eyes bouncing back between him and Lil. 

Lil lets go of your hand, so you cross your arms at Drew. You roll your eyes, yet the grin on your face gives away your amusement. “Fine. I won’t rob you of your uncle-niece time.”

A chuckle escapes Drew’s lips, and he brings you closer to him by wrapping an arm around your waist. “Lil says it’s okay for you to be there,” his voice, low and playful, as he plants a kiss on your jaw. “Third wheel, you okay with that?”

“Delightful,” you try to sound annoyed at that idea, but really, you looked forward to it. 

Originally, it was a beach date with Drew, but his sister must’ve had some emergency, leading to the sudden babysit. You had no idea that it was going to turn out like this, but you don’t mind. 

Besides, it gives you a chance to see what uncle Drew is like. 

“Aww, don’t be jealous,” he teases, rubbing your elbow, a habit he’s grown into since knowing you. 

“I could never compete with this girl,” you smile down at Lil, whose lips slowly forms an O. You coo at her, playing with her little adorable fingers.

Drew glances down at his watch, snapping you out of the little world you’ve absorbed yourself with Lil in only a few seconds. “Hotdog stand might close. Let’s go.”

“I’m trying the taco one!” You happily chirp, remembering how the last time you went there, a long argument between the two of you resulted in you getting the pizza flavored hot dog. 

“Alright, alright,” Drew assures, taking both of the bags off the table. 

You make an attempt to grab at least one bag from him, but he declines, carrying it all the way to the car himself. 

——

Unknowingly, the whole day at the beach has passed. 

Drew had been so focused on spending time with his niece, he didn’t even notice the way the sky changed. One moment, they were splashing in the shallow waves, building sandcastles, the next, the sun was dipping low.

He walks back to the beach with hotdogs in his hands; buying the snacks now since the crowd has disappeared. 

He replays scenes of today in his mind, thinking about how easy it’s been today. How effortless it felt, spending time with you and Lil. He’d watched you interact with his niece all afternoon—how you encouraged her to explore the sand, showing her the little crabs skittering along the shoreline etc. 

And now, as he makes his way back, he can’t shake the image of you laughing with Lil, your face lighting up when the baby made a funny sound or reached out for you.

He reaches the blanket that the two of you had spread out earlier on the sand, and he glances over your shoulder, expecting to see you playing with Lil. 

Instead, he freezes. 

There you are, holding his niece in your arms. Lil’s fast asleep, her little body relaxed against your chest. 

Drew’s first thought is how cute his niece is. 

His eyes then drift over to you; And that’s when it hits him.

The realization of this moment, the quiet way you’re holding his baby niece, strikes him. His heart skips a beat as he watches you, a quiet warmth flooding his chest. 

The sight of you with her, so natural, so right, feels more profound than anything he expected.

What is this feeling? He thinks.

He tries to shake it off. It’s not just about Lil. It’s about you, the way you make everything feel so simple, so easy. He never expected to see you like this, to see you so gentle, so present.

Is this what love feels like? He doesn’t know. But in that moment, staring at the two of you, something in him clicks. He doesn’t have a name for it yet, but it’s there—this pull, this feeling that maybe, just maybe, everything he thought he wanted was right here in front of him.

“Drew?” 

Your voice is gentle and soft as you call out for him, afraid to wake the baby up. 

Your gaze meets his, and for a second, the world feels smaller. His heart skips again, mind racing around as he scrambles for words in his mind. 

“Hey,” he manages to breathe out, sitting down beside you. He’s careful with his movements, even when handing you your hotdog to your free hand. His lips curl into a soft smile,  almost shy, “she’s out cold, huh?”

He watches as you completely ignore his words, biting down on the hotdog you’ve been waiting for for the whole day. His smile grows; his mind reminded of how easy it is to be around you. It’s not that you’ve said much or done anything extraordinary—just the way you seem to savor the simple things, like food, time spent together—it draws him in every time.

“Good?” Drew asks, teasing hinted in his voice, yet his eyes soften as he waits for your answer. 

“Strange. The pizza flavor’s better,” you comment through chews. 

Laughter erupts in his chest, making you look confusingly at him. You swallow, looking at him with doe eyes. “Let me take her,” he says, his hands reaching for his niece. 

You let him, mainly because of how hungry you are. The exchange is smooth; he now holds Lil in his arms, and you hold onto the two hotdogs, eating away one of them. 

“Y/n?”

You quickly finish the bite, humming at Drew continue talking. He’s looking at you with a soft gaze, almost smitten. He calls for your name, but doesn’t say anything. 

“You want a bite?” You ask, filling in the silence. 

Drew chuckles, and with his free hand, he pulls you by the back of your neck closer to him. He kisses you, slow and soft. You relax under his touch, letting the warm and bubbly feeling flow through you. 

You eventually pull away, needing to catch your breath. Drew’s lips are apart as he stares at you; the look in his eyes making it hard to steady your heartbeat. 

For seconds that felt like minutes, silence lingers between you two, eyes locked into each others’ as if any move, would disturb the calmness of this moment. 

Well, the moment is disturbed, because the smell of poop enters the air, as well as the sound of crying. 

Lil's awake, and in a stinky emergency.

You’re the first to pull away, chuckling as you glance down at Lil. “Shit.”

“Yup,” he purses his lips. You get ready to put the hotdogs down, wanting to help change her diapers, when Drew stops you. “I’ll do it.”

“Do I even have the appetite anymore?” You joke, the smile reappearing on Drew’s lips after hearing that. 

“When do you not?” He comments, setting Lil down and reaching for the diaper bag. 

You hit his arm playfully again, laughter coming out of you. You turn and look out onto the ocean waves, putting the hotdogs down to the side.

This moment right here? You want to remember it always. Remember this beach, this adorable little baby, this hotdog (just important as everything else), and this man, that you’ve found yourself to rely on more than you should. 

You hope Drew feels the same way too; that this moment right now, will forever be engraved in your heart. 

Little did you know; it's already engraved in his, as the moment he fell in love with you. 

The moment he realized, that you’re who he wants for the rest of his life. 

-------------------------------

word count: 1.5k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: my first time writing something of pure fluff...hope you enjoyed reading! i was in the mode for something sweet, craving a bf real bad T_T

and yes, im a creep that stalked his sister's ig to find the name of his niece. im sorry im sorry im sorry

other

[anantaru]

cw. best friends need to fuck each other sometimes <3 fem! reader

what's worse?

the vivid realization of fucking your best friend aventurine or that it actually feels fucking nice when you ride him as it all happened so quickly, with want, need and arousal— without your mind working.

it started somewhat innocent, the both of you curious on what's behind those clothes of yours when you begin to masturbate in front of each other— your fingers rubbing over your puffy clit as aventurine watches with big doe eyes, stroking his cock.

high off desperation, he urges you to put a finger into your hole, which you hoped he'd be the one to tell you— to make you do it so it's him who looks even more desperate than you did.

he makes a great show of showing you his thickened cock, right and solid and good wiping his pre over his shaft before bucking into his hand, again again and again fucking into his tight grip imagining it's your tight pussy instead.

the one he's watching getting stuffed by a mere finger. he could've made you cum already, he's certain of it.

aventurine begins to grunt each time you whine when you pump a finger in— and you can see it, how much in pain he was, keeping his teeth dug into his bottom lip to concentrate on making himself cum with his hand.

but it's fast, almost a little bold when he asks you, when both of you think about it;

"you wanna— sit on it, just a bit?" he gasps when you whine back to him, confused and lidded eyes, thrusting your finger in and out of your hole, "only a bit, okay?" you utter back nervously, "five s-seconds, five, not more," lips wet with saliva bestowing pure lust as aventurine was trying to hold it in, his climax and breath, caught in a big gulp.

you hop on top of him, your folds smacking against his shaft as he desperately lines himself up— drawing you still, uttering out another twine of five seconds, only five, fucking five seconds, it's gonna be worth it, you'll see.

"fuck—," he throws his head back, palms branding your ass, "i'm inside of you, fucking inside, oh fuck," as the new feeling of a cock, your best friends cock, sliding into your walls felt so fucking satisfying, so damn filthy and wrong, but good and well at the same time.

it's wrong, it's not, but it is. no it's not.

something so thick and pleasuring can never be wrong.

you're so tight, so fucking tight," he presses into you, your hole filled and thighs shaking, your hips still pushing down to keep more of him in before you let out a squeal at the burning split of his shaft gaping your cunt apart— the tight cunt aventurine always wanted to feel.

the gambler doesn't want mindless fucking, or mundane repetitive one night stands that are bringing him more eye roll than actual pleasure.

actual satisfaction? that's what he wants and he's feeling it right now while stuffing his best friend's sloppy cunt—he desires you strongly, he craved an almost damaging, unspeakable pleasure, his hips jerking reflexively as you're high off the sensation of him.

you choke out your moans, both humping each other filthily, his unforgiving pace bringing you to tears, sweat and saliva drenching you, marking you up, until you're falling apart on your best friends fucking cock.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[ivyues]

Unfiltered Beauty: Stray Kids' reactions to their S/O not wearing makeup often

Bang Chan

You sat on the couch in Chris’ studio, scrolling through your phone while he adjusted the levels on his track. You’d come straight from home in a hoodie, hair tied back, and no makeup on.

“Can you stop?” Chris suddenly said, leaning back in his chair.

“Stop what?” you asked, looking up at him in confusion.

“Being so distracting,” he said, smirking.

You furrowed your brow. “I’m literally sitting here doing nothing.”

“Exactly,” he replied, spinning his chair toward you. “You’re sitting there, looking all natural and gorgeous, and it’s ruining my focus.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting a smile. “So, you’re saying I look better without makeup? That’s just a roundabout way of dissing my makeup skills.”

“No way!” he protested, leaning his elbow on the armrest of his chair as he grinned at you.. “Your makeup skills are great, but you don’t need them. You’re stunning just as you are.”

“Nice save,” you teased, laughing as his grin widened.

Lee Know

Lee Know leaned against the doorway, watching you on the floor surrounded by his beloved cats. You were wearing one of his oversized shirts, your hair loose, and your face completely bare. Dori lay sprawled in your lap, soaking up your affection, while Soonie eagerly chased the string you were wiggling.

“What?” you asked when you noticed him staring, your voice tinged with curiosity.

“You look so…at home,” he said softly, a smile tugging at his lips.

You looked down at his shirt, then at the cats. “Well, your clothes are comfy, and your cats worship me. What can I say? I fit right in.”

He chuckled, walking over to crouch next to you. His hand gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face. “No makeup, messy hair, and still managing to outshine everything in this room,” he murmured, his eyes warm as they met yours.

You smirked, leaning closer. “Even Dori?”

His lips twitched into a grin. “Okay, let’s not get carried away.” He pressed a quick kiss on your lips before scooping Dori off your lap. “But you’re definitely a close second.”

Changbin

Steam billowed out of the bathroom as you stepped into the bedroom, wrapped in a fluffy towel. Your damp hair fell over your shoulders, and your freshly scrubbed face glowed naturally. Changbin looked up from his phone and froze, his eyes lingering on you.

“What?” you asked, shifting under his gaze as you walked to the closet.

“Nothing,” he said, setting his phone aside. “I just realized something.”

You turned, curious. “What?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear makeup around me,” he said thoughtfully, standing up and walking toward you.

You blinked. “Really? I mean, I only wear it for big events or when I’m feeling fancy. Otherwise, it’s too much work.”

His lips curved into a smile. “I like that. It feels like you’re showing me the most real version of yourself. That’s special.”

You softened at his words. “It’s not really a big deal, though.”

“It is to me,” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer. “You’re beautiful just the way you are. No makeup, no filters, just you.”

You smiled, leaning into his chest. “Thanks, Binnie. You’re pretty great, too.”

“Of course I am,” he teased. “But better get dressed before I spend the next hour telling you how amazing you are.”

Hyunjin

You walked out of your room wearing light makeup for a casual outing with Hyunjin. He looked up from his phone, his eyes widening as he took in your appearance.

“You’re wearing makeup?” he asked, standing up.

“Yeah, I felt like it today,” you replied, adjusting your jacket. “Why, does it look bad?”

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “It’s just…you don’t usually wear it. It’s like seeing a rare art piece that’s been hidden in a museum vault.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “You’re so dramatic, Hyunjin.”

He grinned, stepping closer to study your face. “Maybe, but it’s true. You’re already a masterpiece, whether it’s painted or not.”

You smiled, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. “You’re too much, you know that?”

“I know,” he said with a wink. “But you love me for it.”

Han

Han came home after a long day at the studio to find you in the kitchen, humming to yourself as you stirred something on the stove. You were wearing one of his hoodies, your face bare, and your hair in a messy bun.

“Hey,” he greeted, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

You turned your head to smile at him. “Hey, you’re home early.”

He rested his chin on your shoulder, inhaling the comforting scent of your shampoo. “You’re like a walking comfort zone.”

You chuckled. “Is that a compliment?”

“The best kind,” he said, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “No makeup, no stress, just you being perfect.”

Felix

You were tying your sneakers, ready to head out for a quick grocery run with Felix. As you stood up, he glanced at you, his eyes lighting up.

“You’re not wearing makeup?” he asked, smiling softly.

“Do I need it for the groceries?” you teased, grabbing your bag.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I love that about you. You don’t feel like you need to impress anyone.”

“Well,” you said, bumping his shoulder playfully, “I still want to impress you.”

He reached for your hand, lacing your fingers together. “You already impress me every single day. Makeup or not, you’re perfect.”

Seungmin

Seungmin was scrolling through his phone while you cleaned up after dinner. He paused on a photo of you from a recent formal event and held it up.

“This one’s nice,” he said.

“Thanks,” you replied, glancing at the screen. “I did the makeup myself.”

He grinned mischievously. “It’s good.”

“Good? Just good?” you said, pretending to be offended, crossing your arms.

He chuckled, his gaze softening. “I mean, you don’t really need it. You look better without it anyway.”

You smirked, lightly slapping the back of his head with the towel. “You’re lucky I like you, Seungmin.”

I.N

You felt exhausted, so you put on a little makeup to cover up the dark circles under your eyes before your boyfriend came over. When he arrived, he tilted his head, studying your face.

“You’re wearing makeup?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” you admitted, rubbing your arm. “I didn’t sleep well last night. I'm feeling tired and didn’t want to look like it too.”

He stepped closer, gently taking your hands. “You don’t need this,” he said with a small smile. “I like you the way you are, even when you’re tired or feeling off. You’re always my favorite person.”

You felt your heart swell at his words. “Thanks, Jeongin.”

He grinned, squeezing your hands. “Now come on. Let’s watch a movie and relax. We can also take a nap if you want.”

masterlist

[miserycanary]

DEFINITELY NUTS ᡣ𐭩 ⤷ next

pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & model!fem!reader

synopsis: Ghost mentions you but 141 doesn't believe that he got a wife

tags: crack (well, attempted), fluff

Ghost’s strict rules for privacy are something the 141 has known for years now. He’s not the type of person to blab about his personal life and often chooses just to keep quiet. So, imagine their surprise when he suddenly says that he’s going to take a day off because his wife asked him to watch a play. 

“Price, ‘am not gonna be here tomorrow. Got a date with my missus.”

All eyes are on him, everyone stills. “WIFE? Since when?!” Soap exclaimed, finally breaking the silence. His eyes were almost bulging out his eyes. “Never told you about her?” Ghost hums, unamused by the Scottish’s exclaim. “Johnny here does have a reasonable reaction. You never tell us anything ‘bout you, mate,” Price joined, chuckling and pulling out a cigar. The man just contemplates before brushing it off and bidding farewell, leaving the group confused. 

“Ain’t no way he’s telling us the truth. That man ain’t got no bone in his body to bag someone,” Soap voiced out, looking for anyone to support his disbelief. “I mean..” Gaz whistles out, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head as if he’s agreeing to some extent. That’s when, unbeknownst to Ghost, he got the reputation of being delusional and a liar. 

Soap, still doubtful days later, watches the lieutenant with a vision like a hawk. “Hey, lieutenant.” Ghost snaps his head up, looking at him. “How was the date with your wife?” Immediately, everyone else stopped what they were doing, silently listening. It was obvious he was baiting Ghost, emphasizing the wife as if putting on quotes. They weren’t as nosy as Soap but each one of them still held a bit of doubtness that the brick wall of the team managed to get a girl, and even marry her.

“It was okay. The missus had fun,” Ghost chuckles, fondly remembering how you were beaming on the way, rambling about the plot of the play. “Can we see pictures?” Soap smirked thinking he finally got the lieutenant but was taken aback when Ghost only shrugged and pulled out his phone before freezing. “Ah, we didn’t take pictures yesterday. Said she wanted to live in the moment.” 

Soap whipped his head to signal to Gaz, seemingly saying ‘See? He’s definitely lying! How convenient he has no pictures.” 

“How about just a picture of your wife?” Kyle suggested, now invested while Price seemed to be shaking his head in the corner. “I have none with me but..” With a few clicks, Ghost holds up his phone for everyone to see. Like birds, everyone flocked around him, curious to see. For a while, everyone was surprised and sure the man was lying. I mean, he just showed them a picture of a drop-dead gorgeous model from a magazine! 

‘He's definitely lost it’ everyone seemed to think, offering pity glances at the man who had this prideful shine in his eyes. Walking up to his superior, Soap patted him on the back. “It’s fine, mate… we understand how difficult it must be.” ‘not having a lady at all’

Thinking Johnny meant about your hectic schedule, he agreed. “It’s quite tough but we make it work,” he chuckled which made everyone wince.

‘Definitely nuts!’

Weeks passed after that and the topic never got brought up, until Ghost came in with a bento in hand covered with a handkerchief with frilly ends. When asked about it, he replied, “Ah, wife’s testing out recipes for an upcoming TV show. ‘S been practicing and asked me to bring one.” Once again, he was given pity glances and even heard a defeated sigh from Soap. 

‘He’s too far gone’

“How’s work?” you ask, dazedly paying attention to the movie you guys put, more invested in burying your face in Simon’s chest while he drapes both arms on your waist, completely engulfing your torso under his muscles. “Been getting a few weird stares,” he mumbles, playing with your hair and pressing kisses on your forehead. “Why?” you peer up, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I don’ know, princess.”

Meanwhile…

“Should we just… finally set the lieutenant on a date? I feel bad. I mean, he even lied about his “wife” making him lunch,” Johnny sighed.

“Probably the best idea,” Kyle nodded.

Now Price… he knows the truth. He met you before when you dropped by, asking for Ghost— which ended horribly— but he’ll lying if he said he’s not getting a kick out of this.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: probably won't be posting for a while :] Did you guys notice the hint to my previous work? Please do. 😔

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

[amirasainz]

Can you please do little reader is daughter of someone and alll the drivers absolutely adore her always carrying her away and cuddling her, taking her off the parent

Enjoy reading and send some requests!

Let me know if you want more Yn Alonso stories.

-xoxo, Babygirl 💋

The Princess of Formula 1

The paddock was buzzing with its usual pre-race energy, and while everyone was used to seeing drivers, engineers, and media rushing around, today there was an extra special guest who caught everyone’s eye—Fernando's three-year-old daughter, Yn. She toddled alongside her father, holding his hand tightly, her eyes wide with wonder at all the noise and colors. She was dressed in a mini Aston Martin team shirt, a green cap, and tiny sneakers that made her look absolutely adorable.

Fernando walked confidently with Yn, making his way toward the Aston Martin garage. As he approached, a couple of drivers immediately spotted the little girl and couldn't help but gravitate towards her.

“Hey there, Yn!” Lando exclaimed, squatting down to her level with a huge grin on his face. He reached out a hand, and Yn, curious and already warming up to the friendly face, placed her tiny hand in his.

“Hola, Lando!” Fernando chuckled, ruffling Yn’s hair. “I didn’t expect her to be the center of attention so quickly.”

Lando’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Oh, come on, Fernando. She’s much cuter than you! Mind if I borrow her for a bit?”

Fernando raised an eyebrow. “As long as you give her back.”

Lando scooped Yn up and spun her around, eliciting a squeal of delight from the little girl. “Let’s go find something fun to do, yeah?” he said, bouncing her playfully in his arms.

Carlos wandered over, curious about what the commotion was about. “What’s going on?” he asked, noticing Yn giggling in Lando’s arms.

“She’s playing with Lando now,” Fernando said, shaking his head with a fond smile. “He just took her.”

Carlos chuckled and approached Yn, switching to Spanish. “Hola, pequeñita. ¿Te estás divirtiendo?”

Yn looked at him with wide eyes, understanding her father's language better. “Sí!” she replied eagerly.

“We’re going to play dolls,” Lando said, holding up a small stuffed bear he had found in the McLaren hospitality area. “Well, Yn is, and I’ll just be doing whatever she tells me to do.”

“Dolls, eh?” Carlos grinned. “Lando, do you even know what she’s saying? She might just order you to give her all your snacks.” He winked at Yn. “¿Quieres que le quite las galletas a Lando para ti?”

Yn giggled and nodded. “Sí, quiero!”

Lando feigned a look of shock. “Hey! No fair! I didn’t agree to this!” He glanced at Carlos. “Okay, fine, you’re on doll duty too, Señor Translator.”

Carlos sat down next to them, carefully listening to Yn’s instructions as she showed Lando how to make the bear dance. “She says the bear wants a snack, Lando,” Carlos translated with a teasing grin.

“Of course, he does,” Lando said, “Fine, we’ll go find some cookies.” Yn clapped her hands in delight as Carlos took her hand and led her toward the hospitality area.

Not far away, Charles was observing the scene with amusement. When Yn spotted him, her eyes lit up at the sight of a friendly face she recognized. “ChaCha!” she called out, reaching her little arms toward him.

“Bonjour, princesse,” Charles said warmly, swooping in to take her from Carlos’s arms. “Are you having fun with these silly boys?”

Yn giggled and nodded. “Ice cream?” she asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes.

“How can I say no to that face?” Charles laughed. “Let’s get you some ice cream.”

Moments later, they were sitting together, Charles feeding Yn small spoonfuls of vanilla ice cream while she giggled between bites. “Just like a princess,” Charles said, wiping a tiny spot of ice cream from her cheek with a napkin. “But don’t tell your papa how much I spoiled you, okay?”

Yn gave a serious nod as if making a grand promise. “Secret!”

Not long after, Lewis wandered by and saw Yn with Charles. “What’s all this, then?” he asked, flashing a smile. “Charlie, you’re spoiling her already?”

“I couldn’t resist,” Charles said with a shrug. “She’s too cute.”

Yn’s attention was already on Lewis, recognizing him from the many times her dad had spoken about him. “Lewie!” she cried out, reaching her arms toward him.

“Well, if the little princess requests,” Lewis said as he picked Yn up and settled her on his hip. “How about we go watch a movie? I’ve got ‘Coco’ ready on my iPad, and it’s in Spanish.” Yn's eyes widened with delight at the mention of a Disney movie.

Yn cuddled up against Lewis as he found a quiet spot in the Mercedes hospitality area. She rested her head on his shoulder while they watched “Coco,” with Lewis occasionally glancing down to make sure she was still enjoying it. Her little face lit up at the familiar songs, and she clapped her hands to the beat.

Across the paddock, Max was adjusting his Red Bull cap when he noticed Yn trotting around after the movie with Lewis, now searching for her dad. Max crouched down, holding his cap out toward her. “Hey, Yn, want to try on my cap?”

Yn nodded enthusiastically, and Max placed the oversized Red Bull cap on her head. It nearly swallowed her whole, and she laughed, trying to peer out from under the brim. “Too big!” she giggled.

“Yeah, it’s a bit big for you, isn’t it?” Max chuckled, flipping the brim up so she could see. “But you look pretty cool, I’d say.”

As Yn wandered around with the cap, Fernando was finally doing an interview, holding his daughter on his hip as she played with the brim of Max’s hat.

“And how do you balance being a driver and a dad, Fernando?” the reporter asked, nodding toward Yn.

Fernando glanced down at Yn, who was fiddling with the microphone cord. “It’s all about priorities,” he said with a smile. “Today, my priority is making sure she has a good time.”

Just then, George strolled by, clearly amused by the sight of Fernando multitasking with his daughter. Without a word, George reached over, scooped Yn right out of Fernando’s arms, and continued walking away, casually chatting with her as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Fernando blinked, completely taken aback. “Did he just…take my daughter away?”

The reporter laughed. “It seems like George has a new fan.”

Fernando shook his head with a chuckle, watching as George carried Yn toward the Mercedes garage. George held Yn up, letting her "fly" like an airplane, which elicited more giggles from her.

As the day began to wind down, the paddock was slowly emptying, and Fernando started looking around for Yn, wondering where she had wandered off to this time. Just as he was about to ask someone, he saw Checo walking toward him, gently cradling a sleeping Yn in his arms. Her head rested on Checo's shoulder, her small fists curled around the fabric of his racing suit.

“I found her napping in the hospitality area,” Checo said softly, handing Yn over to Fernando. “Figured you’d want her back.”

Fernando took Yn into his arms with a grateful smile. “Thanks, Checo. She’s had quite a day.”

Checo grinned. “She’s been all over the paddock—think she’s the real star of the show.”

Fernando chuckled, looking down at his sleeping daughter. “You’re right, she stole the show today.” He kissed Yn’s forehead, feeling a sense of peace and happiness as he held her close.

As the sun began to set over the paddock, Fernando walked out with Yn in his arms, thankful to have his little girl back and ready to head home.

[kyunniebuns]

˗ˏˋ Jinwoo x Fem! Reader: Soulmate! Au ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 043 ✦ ┆・

╰┈➤ ❝ [ I'm willing to bind myself to you] ¡! ❞

Jinwoo had always been curious about the little red string attached to his finger. He had this way before his regression. His mother always told him that he is lucky that he can see his red string, it meant that he would find his lover faster than anybody else would.

Does he, a man who really could care less about fantasy romance— Find this whole thing cheesy? Definitely.

While others would certainly start flipping rocks just to find their 'one true love'; Jinwoo did none of that.

He had priorities to deal with.

Such as suddenly becoming the patriarch of the family due to his father going missing, trying to provide care to his mother who has come down into a coma, and taking care of his dear baby sister on top of that.

Jinwoo probably got into debt in the process of trying to shoulder all the financial problems.

Would you really think he had some time for romantic relationships and much less go hunting for a needle in a haystack?

However... He did have some small chemistry with Hae-in, though, it felt more shallow than anything. After all, they only met a few times and decided to roll with it just because.

It felt... Empty so to speak.

They say that romance feels like a tidal wave, once it comes— It overwhelms you with such force you'd have nothing more choice than to kneel before it and surrender yourself to it's mercy.

But Jinwoo couldn't feel any of that with Hae-in.

Don't get him wrong, she is a wonderful person. Kind, pretty, all that and whatnot.

But what can he do if a heart does not want what it wants?

His red string wouldn't be reacting neither. Not a glow, not a tug, no nothing.

Jinwoo would eventually find himself just ignoring the little red string until the time he regresses.

Heck, he even forgot about it even if it's literally tied to his very own finger.

And as he traversed the long hallways of his school, hands shoved in his pockets while listening to his friends banter around him— He felt a soft tug on his finger.

"H-hey! Knock it off, I wanna pull for Aventurine myself!" A voice would erupt his bewilderment as a sharp tug at his finger pulls again. "Iseol!"

He looks back to see your figure running after your friend who had taken your phone.

"Huh..." Jinwoo hums, shaking his head and turning away.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Jinwoo felt entirely restless after that little meeting. It's not like he caught a proper glimpse at you, your back was turned the entire time.

And yet he finds himself completely fidgety. His sister even rants that he had been pacing for hours if she wouldn't snap him out of his little trance.

Has he lost his mind over a girl he hasn't properly seen? Definitely.

Is it the effects of the red string? Not impossible.

"Goddamnit!" Jinwoo sighs, ruffling his head and flopping onto the bed.

"My liege..." Beru's small voice calls out. "My lord, you are... Anxious."

"Tell me about it" Jinwoo scoffs, groaning through his pillow.

"...My liege, I have her scent, do you wish to track he—"

"You do?!" Jinwoo perks up, staring intensely at his soldier before mentally slapping himself. "Ack... No, don't make me a creep"

He felt frustrated, why would he do that? Why should he? He might as well spend his time in jail for even trying to entertain the idea of stalking you.

Jinwoo's gaze would then absentmindedly drift towards the red string on his ring fingerz nothing how much vibrant it's color is now compared to before.

Was it your doing? Maybe.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

He told himself not to be a creep and yet found himself somewhat lingering around you. All the little things about you, he started taking note of.

From memorizing the frequent pastries you buy from the cafeteria, to the drinks you often buy from the vending machine, and even trying to overhear the games you play on your phone.

It was really just curiousity.

After all, he can't help but find it cute on the way your eyes would perk up as you ramble on to your friends about some lore or complaining about some game mechanics because of how hard it was.

Jinwoo was just about to leave you to your own devices until your voice ripped through the air—

"AVENTURINE!!!!" You cheer, standing up immediately and pacing back and forth. "HE'S HOME, AFTER SACRIFICING 30 DOLLARS FOR THIS DAMN BASTARD HE'S HOM—!!!!"

Your heart dropped immediately as your shoe got caught over on a crack— And for sure you were going to land but instead a hand would reach out to hold your shoulder and keep you steady.

"Easy there," Jinwoo says, helping you stand straight.

"!!!!" You panic, pulling away with your face entirely flushed. "I-I'm sorry! I-I didn't mean to!..."

"Wait, calm down—...." Jinwoo wasn't even given a second any longer to speak as you dashed away in a frenzy.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Your heart is beating out of your chest, your lungs are barely catching any breath as you coughed, the noises you made akin to whistles while trying to gasp out for air.

It's tight.

Painful.

Your hands are sweating, trembling as if it's suffering from frostbite.

Is it fear?

No.

It's just how you react after being way too dangerously close to the person you adored so much.

His eyes.

God those grey eyes.

Long lashes, a high nose bridge, thin peach lips, and that agonizingly relaxing scent on him— Gods.

Not to mention his height, he was like a tower. And those broad shoulders underneath his baggy clothing that hid the muscular form underneath—

Sung JInwoo will be the death of you.

You had been avoiding him ever since coming here.

How long has it been?... Ah... It's been 3 years since you arrived in this world.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

It was supposed to be your doctor's appointment. Since you have arrived an hour earlier from your check-up, you decided to stroll around the mall first.

Okay, you weren't really taking a stroll.

Your strides are purposeful and hurried, the goal is clear:

Get to the bookstore.

As you recalled, it should be at the other end of the mall.

It didn't matter how long you're going to walk, you needed to see if it's there. Nothing is more important than that.

Taking the elevator down and nearly having a heart attack from the sound of it creaking as it took you to the lower level; you stepped out and dashed immediately to the entrance.

Glancing around like a madman, you scoured the large and intimidating place before deciding to enter completely and attempt to look for the section you needed to be in.

Passing by interesting books wasn't the goal, and after almost 3 minutes of going in circles you finally saw the section you needed to be in.

As soon as your eyes landed on the cover of the book you have been searching for— You had to swallow your squeals.

Your hands however? They were shaking so bad.

You paced back and forth for a bit before finally deciding to reach out on the book and take it out of it's shelf cautiously.

Taking a deep breath, you gently pry open the thing and feel your heart flutter.

"Jinwoo-ah...." You mumble, giggling quietly as your eyes dilate into heart shapes at the sight of the precious man you cannot stop obsessing over.

Carding your digits carefully on the fine paper, your stroke Jinwoo's face on the page delicately like you were handling the most fragile little thing ever.

You can't help but admire him all the more as you silently freak out like a madman in the aisle.

He was so handsome.

And now that you can physically run your fingers across the pages while crushing on him felt a whole lot different.

You had about a decent amount of money on you, it should be fine. As you reach for your little bag, you hear some crackling above your head.

The next thing you knew? You were suddenly shrouded in darkness.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

You assume you must have died that day while shopping for your first ever solo leveling purchase. After all, you suddenly woke up in an unfamiliar apartment.

It tooka while to get used to it, but apparently you're in seoul living alone in a decent apartment with a black card containing a lot of money.

Complaints? Nowhere.

— Except that Solo Leveling doesn't exist in this world.

Did you have a literal mental breakdown over it? He yeah.

Big tears, pathetic sniffles and nasty snot. All that.

You cried like a toddler just because you cant do your monthly ritual of rereading solo leveling and admiration of Jinwoo anymore.

So with salty tears you grab a pencil and paper to start sketching him down. If you can't read, mind as well draw the image of him when it's still fresh.

It took 3 weeks to recover, and in youur room, your desk is full of Jinwoo's sketches. It isn't the same as the manhwa but it's the best you could do.

It took another 2 to finally come to terms with your new reality.

You're rich, mind as well live life, right?

You even enrolled to a highschool. After all, k-dramas are always centered around that part of life. Why not experience it yourself?

After successfully buying all of your school materials, you glance down at your ring finger and notice a delicately tied red string.

Huh...

That wasn't there yesterday.

Picking at it and attempting to take it off didn't work. So after an hour of struggling, you gave in and let it be.

Maybe the string was proof that you had died.

And maybe it was a sign that this is your purgatory. Or not, everything is way too normal except for no Jinwoo.

So heh....

But ah, it wasn't part of your plans to see a figure... Way too familiar.

Tall, dark, and handsome.

Three words and you associate it with only one person.

Amidst the crowd of students lined up on the grounds your eyes zeroed in instantly on a single boy who stood out amongst everyone.

No way... Right?

That piercing gaze, the fluffy hoodie, and a glove on his left hand.

That was Jinwoo's appearance when he regressed in time and went into highschool.

Shit.

Isn't your uniform similar to Jinah's?

You should've realized in the first place.

Wait no, you're not really mad it's just!... Jinwoo... Seeing him on the crowd, the probability of meeting him in the hallways isn't zero.

How are you going to survive? Is this why there isn't solo leveling in this world?

Because this world is where the protagonist lives?

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

And that is the story of how you arrived here in this world. During the 2 months of being in school, you occasionally passed by Jinwoo, and in each fleeting moment you had to hide in the washroom to try and calm yourself from your panic. Your heart would beat as if it's going to explode, your breathing would be erratic each time that you cant really take a breath.

You always knew that meeting him will quite take a toll on you because you loved him so much, but you didn't think it would be this bad that you look like you're having a panic attack.

Stay Calm.

You need to stay calm. If you pass out from fangirling over your precious idol it'll be embarassing as hell.

Calm down.

You need to calm down.

It's not like he actually saw you, it'll be fine.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

No, it wasn't fine.

Somehow, crossing paths with Jinwoo became more uncharacteristically frequent. It's to the point that you needed to actively avoid his usual walking routes.

Is it stupid to hide from someone who has the ability to locate anyone at any given moment? Yes.

Will you still keep doing it? Yes.

You don't hate Jinwoo, you just cant handle being around him knowing how much adoration you hold inside your heart and knowing that he will never be yours.

It should be around this season when Jinwoo asks Chae Hae-in out and kisses her under the falling snow.

It isn't december 24th yet but... Does it matter?

She's so lucky, having someone like him to admire her.

The only thing you have with you is a lonely life with money.

As well as this stupid red string wrapped around your finger.

What is it meant to represent anyway? A lover?

Surely not.

Who would love you?

The sad, pathetic, lonely, and broken you who doesn't belong in this world.

Just like your previous life and this one, you feel an awful sense of alienation that is unpleasant. The kind of loneliness that eats at your heart every single day.

"Ah, you're here?" A voice from behind you makes you jump and instantly whip your head around.

"A-ah..." You panic, recognizing the familiar grey eyes.

"Now, don't even run away." Jinwoo simply says, smiling.

It made you gulp honestly, something about that grin made you feel like he's willing to pull you into the land of eternal rest if you do.

"U-uhm..." You sputter, fidgeting.

"Not even wearing gloves in this weather?" He inquires, pulling the gloves off of his hands and gently taking yours.

"..."

The red string on your finger tingled, glowing softly as the broken ends binded itself to the strings on Jinwoo's finger.

"How cute" Jinwoo interrupts the silence. "Even if you run away now, these strings will keep us binded."

"W-wait!" You panic, utterly confused as you look up at him.

"I won't force myself on you," He says, his gaze moving from the strings to your eyes. "But I do want to court you properly,... If you'll let me."

"....."

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

"That's the story of how me and your daddy got together," You hum softly, caressing your fingers softly against your stomach that is now holding a four month old growing baby.

"What a cute bedtime story," Jinwoo chuckles, approaching from the door and pecking your forehead. "Now, shouldn't you be asleep, hm? My pretty wife needs a lot of rest since you're carrying our little ball of sunshine"

"I just couldn't help it..." You pout at him, and he only pinches your cheek before leaning down to kiss your stomach.

"Mhm, I can tell" He shakes his head while gently pulling the blanket over you. "Go to sleep, jagiya. I still need to shower after a long day at the office"

"Please hurry..." You ask softly, tugging at his sleeve.

"I will" Jinwoo promises, leaning in to kiss your forehead again. "So go to sleep."

꒰ 🪼 A/N: Sorry for the inactiveness ahhh... I'm quite burnt out as of late and I've been doing some commissions as well as running errands www. I'll postpone the cai requests for a bit longer ahhh... I have to make assassin au too ejshrgshs. Oh well, here's to praying I figure out wth I want to do with assassin au ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ — All stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[locomoqo]

switchin' them positions

ft. Gun Park, Goo Kim, & Diego Kang x reader [separate]

details: NSFW content, sub characters, p in v (gun's part), bondage + cockwarming (goo's part), handjob + orgasm denial (DG's part)

A/N: BOO!!!! drops bomb and runs (literally just smthing i came up with like..what if u make that hunk go sub..esp the big 3 ++ goo is the subbiest out of the 3 tbh)

ᯓ★—GUN

Gun’s back is pressed against the headboard, his dark eyes fixed on you. He’s already stripped down, his body tense beneath you as you straddle his hips, feeling the warmth of his dick pressing against your inner thighs. His hands rest on your waist, fingers tightening instinctively as you start to move, slowly rolling your hips, teasing him with every shift of your body.

“Let me,” he growls softly, his grip tightening as if he’s about to flip you over, take control like he always does. But you shake your head, pressing your palms against his chest, holding him down with a firm but gentle pressure. 

“Not tonight,” you say, your voice soft but insistent, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat under your fingers. “Tonight, you don’t get to be in charge.”

His eyes narrow, a flicker of frustration flashing across his face, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t fight you—not yet. He’s too curious, too caught off guard by the way you’re looking at him, with a calm determination that he’s not used to. He doesn’t let go of your hips; his fingers dig into your skin, and you can feel the tension thrumming through him, the desire to flip the script, to take you down and make you beg for him.

“Just let me take care of you,” you murmur, leaning down to brush your lips over his, the kiss soft, lingering. You feel his body shudder beneath you, the barest hint of surrender, but he still watches you warily, as if he’s not sure he can trust himself to let go.

Slowly, you start to move, your hips moving against him, taking him inside you inch by inch. His breath hitches, and his sharp, predatory focus giving way to something softer. His hands twitch against your waist, but he stays where he is, allowing you to set the pace.

“Just relax, handsome," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath as you move, slow and unhurried, letting him feel every inch of the sweet walls of your pussy.

He makes a low, frustrated sound, his hands tightening again as if he’s about to take over, but you press him back down. Your fingers threading through his hair, tugging just enough to make him subtly gasp. “No,” you insist gently, but firmly. “You get to relax tonight. Relax.” You put emphasis on the last word.

He looks up at you, his breathing ragged, and you can see the war in his eyes—wanting to give in, but hating how exposed it makes him feel. But he doesn’t fight you, doesn’t try to take back control, and there’s something almost desperate in the way he watches you, as if he’s never felt this kind of weakness before. It's almost like he's turning into putty in your hands.

As you move, your pace quickening, you can feel the tension in him slowly unraveling. His fingers loosening their grip on your waist, his head falling back, exposing the column of his throat. God, the way your pussy just squeezed the life out of his cock felt good, he wouldn't admit it but letting you set the pace for once felt good.

You lean down, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, his neck, savoring the rare moment of intimacy as his body begins to respond to yours, his hips lifting to meet your movements.

“You’re doing so well,” you whisper, your lips brushing against his ear, and he shudders, his eyes fluttering shut as if he can’t bear to look at you while he’s like this—laid bare, completely exposed. There’s a rawness in the way he grips your thighs, his fingers trembling just slightly as he gives himself over to the moment, letting you take him to the edge.

Every sound he makes—every low, breathy moan, every ragged gasp—feels like a victory, each one more desperate than the last as he lets go of the control he’s always held so tightly. His muscles are tense beneath you, his breath hot and uneven as he watches you through half-lidded eyes, his jaw clenched with the effort of keeping himself in check.

Your words are soft, soothing, and you can see the way they hit him, the way his breath catches as he looks up at you, his gaze suddenly raw and open in a way you’ve never seen before. His hands slide up to your back, holding you close, and you can feel the way he trembles—just a little, just enough to let you know that you’ve cracked that icy exterior.

His moans grow just a tad bit louder, his control slipping further with each roll of your hips, his breaths coming faster, rougher. You feel his hips move up into you to try and meet your hips, his eyes squeezing shut, his grip on you tightening as he lets you take him apart piece by piece until he’s gasping your name, lost in a pleasure he can’t control.

When he finally shudders and falls apart beneath you, his seed painting your insides white, there’s no pretense left—just raw, unguarded emotion, his eyes glazed and unfocused, his body spent.

You stay like that for a moment, catching your breath, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his chest beneath yours. He looks up at you, and for a second, you see the barest hint of a smile before he pulls you down into a fierce, hungry kiss, as if to reclaim some of the power he’d let slip away.

And maybe, just maybe, he’s okay with that.

ᯓ★—GOO

Goo should’ve known better. Maybe he wouldn’t have said yes if he’d realized things would end up here, or perhaps if he’d actually taken you seriously, the consequences wouldn’t have been so... brutal.

It started with a simple request—you wanted to switch things up in the bedroom. He laughed, entertained the thought, but never let you follow through, always brushing it off with a smirk and a smug, “Next time.” So, this time, you decided to make sure he’d regret that.

You pushed him down onto the bed, capturing his mouth in a fierce kiss, and before he knew it, he heard it—the click of handcuffs locking his wrists above his head. His eyes widened as you pulled back, a sly smile playing on your lips.

“Alright then,” he chuckled, half-disbelieving. A playful, cocky grin spreading across his face. “Let’s see what you got, boss.”

You straddled his hips with an intensity that made that cockiness of his falter. For just a second, you caught that slight drop in his expression. “Stay,” you ordered, voice firm, leaving no room for argument.

He chuckled again, but there was a faint trace of uncertainty there now, a sliver of something almost like nerves.

“Oh, I’m so scared,” he mocked, but it sounded hollow, his confidence starting to crack.

You leaned close, your breath warm against his ear. “I mean it, Goo. You move, and this stops. Understand?”

You felt his body tense beneath you, the slightest catch in his breathing. He laughed, but it was softer, less certain. “O–Okay, whatever you say, sugar,” he muttered, voice slipping as he started to take you just a little more seriously.

You rewarded him with a slow, deliberate grind against his cock, feeling it harden beneath you as his breath hitched, his fingers twitching above his head, clearly aching to grab you but unable to.

“You’re gonna listen, right?” you teased, voice low, testing just how far you could push him.

“Yes,” he replied, but it wasn’t steady, the usual cocky edge blunted, replaced with a hint of submission.

“Good,” you murmured. You could feel the tension in his arms as he strained against the cuffs, testing his restraints but holding back, for now.

He could feel his cock twitching to be inside of you, but he could do nothing but watch as you grinded on his length. That smirk of his was slipping fast, the usual swagger replaced with something far more vulnerable.

“Still think this is funny?” you asked, pressing your hands down on his chest, pinning him harder. His eyes widened, and you watched as a bead of sweat formed on his brow, his cock pressing harder against you as he looked up, flushed, defiant, but beginning to crack.

Oh, who was he kidding? You looked so fucking hot like this. His dick was only getting harder by the second.

“N–No,” he admitted, voice breathy. He licked his lips, gaze locked on yours, his arrogance unraveling with each passing second.

You leaned in, slowly grinding on him. Each touch, each kiss was a slow burn, drawing out every last bit of his restraint. He started off with cocky retorts, but the longer you teased, denying him even the slightest touch, the more his smug façade crumbled.

His breath came in sharp gasps, smirks turning into bitten-back moans when you finally sank down onto his cock—agonizingly slow at that—and when he tried to lift his head to capture your lips, you pulled back, keeping him right on the edge.

Goo couldn’t handle this. Just when he thought you’d finally give him some release, you went completely still on top of him. No, no, he’d hold out—you’d move sooner or later, right?

But you didn’t. And now he was starting to feel cornered, his body aching for you to move. The way your cunt would give his dick a squeeze every now and then, the stillness so torturous he thought he might lose it.

“Please,” he murmured, voice stripped of all bravado, replaced with genuine need. His hips bucked against yours, wrists pulling desperately at the cuffs, eyes wide and pleading.

“What was that?” you asked, pretending not to hear, dragging your nails lightly down his chest, a teasing glint in your eyes.

“P-Please,” he repeated, louder this time, voice breaking, his face flushed as he looked up, wild-eyed and almost desperate. “Fuck, I—need you—”

You smirked, leaning down until your lips brushed against his, voice dipping into a low, teasing whisper. “Oh, now you’re begging? I thought you were the one in control.”

He let out a broken groan, head falling back as he tugged at the cuffs, his usual arrogance shattered. “Please,” he said again, voice raw, the word slipping out like a whimper, leaving him exposed to you.

You couldn’t help but grin, a thrill running through you as you saw him so undone, so needy—all because of you.

“Well,” you murmured, finally granting him a slow movement of your hips. The friction drawing a deep, shuddering moan from him. “Maybe I’ll give you what you want...as long as you keep being a good boy for me. Can you do that for me?” you purr at a tone that's so sweet yet razzing.

“Yes, yes-” he gasped, trembling beneath you, wide, desperate eyes locked onto yours, no trace of his usual swagger left. “I’ll be good. I promise. Just—please, just fuckin’ move.”

“Are you telling me what to do?” You ask, lifting an eyebrow at him with a small pout. He immediately shakes his head, “N–No, sugar, ‘m sorry–I just-”

Oh this was just too amusing.

ᯓ★—DG

Diego Kang, the level headed man. The one man circle, the legend of the first generation…the titles he’s earned could go on and on. Always exuding that calm confidence, that unshakable aura. But tonight, that was exactly what you aimed to break.

After all, he was still a man, wasn't he?

Your little movie date night with him is long forgotten by you as you shift closer, slipping your hand under the blanket, trailing your fingers over his thigh. You catch the briefest flicker of his eyes down to you, a faint question there, but he says nothing. Unfazed, as always.

Yet you don’t stop. Your hand slides further, pressing just a little harder, and when your fingers graze his cock through his sweats, you feel him tense ever so slightly. He doesn’t say a word, but there’s a slight exhale, barely audible, as he shifts in his seat.

You pull it out, touch feather-light as you ran your hand over the length of his cock, only teasing at first. He didn’t flinch, only looked down at you with that calm, unreadable gaze of his, like he was trying to figure out what game you were playing.

“You’re not going to get to me,” he murmured, that calm, even tone never wavering.

You smirked, looking up at him. “Is that so?”

Leaning forward, you wrapped your fingers around his cock, giving it a slow, torturous stroke from base to tip. He let out a measured breath, eyes narrowing as he tried to keep his expression neutral.

“Mmhm,” he replied, but there was the faintest tremor in his voice, just barely enough to let you know you were getting to him, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

Slowly, you ran your thumb over his slit, feeling his body tense under your touch. His jaw clenched, but he kept his eyes locked on the screen, refusing to let you see him slip.

“Nothing to say, hm?” you teased, keeping your strokes excruciatingly slow, keeping him right on the edge, but never giving him enough to tip over. The way your hand feels around his dick has him wanting more. More than this.

He could just imagine your pretty little lips wrapped around his thick cock or maybe even better—him sinking every single inch of him into you. He bites his lip, hands flexing at his sides.

It makes him swallow hard, adam’s apple bobbing as he forces himself to stay in control. “You’ll have to do better than that,” he replied, his voice tight but still steady.

Your fingers moved faster, stroking him with a little more pressure, watching his resolve waver, bit by bit. His breath hitched, his eyelids fluttering just slightly as he fought to keep his composure.

“Oh? So you don’t mind if I just… keep you here like this?” you murmured, voice laced with a teasing sweetness as you slowed your strokes, edging him right up to that breaking point before pulling back again.

His lips parted, and for a split second, you saw it—the faintest flicker of frustration in his eyes, a crack in that calm exterior. He let out a shaky breath, biting down on the inside of his cheek, clearly still fighting to stay composed.

“That’s... fine,” he managed, but his voice was strained, his hands clenching into fists at his sides now.

With a smirk, you leaned in, pressing your lips against his neck, littering the space with slow kisses. “I don’t think you can handle it,” you whispered against his skin. “In fact, I think you’re going to beg.”

His body tensed, and his breathing quickened, but he still wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of breaking. “I won’t,” he replied, though his voice had grown softer, barely above a whisper.

You laughed softly, moving your hand with a firmer stroke, watching as his cool demeanor slowly melted away, replaced by the raw need he could no longer hide.

“Let’s see,” you challenged, stroking him just a little faster. His gaze shifts down to his dick, looking furious at the constant denial of release. He could feel the tension build in his body as he struggled to hold onto what was left of his control.

Finally, a low, ragged moan escaped him, and he gave in. Those eyes hazy with desire as he whispered, barely audible, “Please…”

“Didn't hear you,” you teased, slowing your movements to a crawl, dragging out each stroke until he let out another shuddering breath.

“Please,” he repeated, his voice softer, almost pleading. His eyes met yours, the last of his composure slipping away as he gave in

You leaned back, smiling victoriously as he looked at you, expression shattered and vulnerable. It was everything you wanted, and you hadn’t even pushed him all the way over the edge yet.

“See?” you whispered, your fingers ghosting over his cock again, driving him right back to the brink. “I told you you’d beg.”

[chariaki]

Flower petals

Kento x reader

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

"Does he like me?" pluck 𓄼

"or like me not?"pluck 𓄼

"He likes me.. " pluck 𓄼

"He likes me not." and the flower's petals ran out. You sighed, feeling down because even the flowers think he doesn't like you anymore.

You're sitting under the shade of a big oak tree, surrounded by plucked flower petals of different colors. All of which, coincidentally, ended with "he likes me not." Curse those even numbered flowers.

You were waiting for you boyfriend, Kento Nanami. You were rather nervous because it's almost been a month since you started dating. And one particularly embarrassing incident had been replaying in your mind as you worry it might've turned him off.

You plucked another flower as you recall that memory.

It happened on your little date at a ramen restaurant. You were enjoying the big bowl of hot noodles, in fact, it was too hot. It burnt your tongue, so you had to drink water, but, somehow, when you sipped the water, your lipstick got on your teeth, so when you smiled at Nanami, a little pink smudge appeared. Nanami, being the gentleman that he is, handed you a tissue and his phone camera.

But that doesn't stop there! Afterwards, as you were enjoying your ramen, you uncontrollably let out a loud burp. A not so feminine burp. But it's okay, Nanami smiled, you thought it was out of courtesy, but really, it was a smile of fondness. He found it adorable how you could easily express yourself, whether you meant to or not.

But, dear reader, did you really think it stops there? Are you forgetting how clumsy you truly are? You should really distance youe bowl further away from you. Because when you bent down to grab your bag that fell off the chair, your head hit the table and caused the bowl to shake and spill on you.

You got yourself wet in ramen soup!

In front of your unbelievably handsome and well-composed date!

"Are you alright, yn?" Nanami went to you, crouched and helped you up. He handed you tissues, once again, and asked for a waiter to help him clean up the spill.

Luckily, your date had a jacket in which he gave to you and told you to freshen up and wait for him in the bathroom as he quickly went to the nearest stores and bought you a new blouse.

And now, here you are, a few days after, under the shades of a big oak tree, waiting for your boyfriend.

What you didn't know was he was walking towards you from behind, so he could hear and see your little shenanigans. And as you reached your last petal,

"He likes me not. Again. Of course. "

You sighed, and finally gave up on the flowers that you put so much faith in.

"Of course, silly. It's because I love you. "

You turned around, seeing Kento Nanami in all his glory, the sun resting on his face and illuminating his beautiful blonde curls, eyes so gentle, mouth turned upward.

"What were you doing, dear?" He had his eyebrows up together, eyes lit, and lips wide open into a curious smile.

"I... oh, thank you." You mumbled as you accepted the bouquet he handed you. A bouquet of your favorite flowers, in your favorite colors.

"You were asking the flowers if I liked you? What made you doubt me?" He asked, sitting down next to you.

"Doubt you? Not at all! It's me who I'm doubting. If you still liked me after what happened in the ramen shop..." You trailed off, so embarrassed that you couldn't face him.

"Did sonething happen?" He wondered, ever so softly.

"Yes? Y'know... I was so out of it..."

"Ohh! You meant your little mishaps? It's no big deal, yn. I don't mind." He chuckled, brows up in realization of what you meant, eyes crinkled, head back.

"But I troubled you and embarrassed you... "

"You weren't embarrassing. You were adorable and fun to be around. And you didn't trouble me at all, in fact, if possible, I want you to trouble me more. I want to be there and take care of you."

You looked up and there he was—tall, blonde, with eyes so soft and full of warmth, they felt like home. His smile, that sweet, lovestruck smile, made your heart skip, as if the world itself paused just to admire him.

Kento Nanami. Your boyfriend. The one who always knew how to make you feel safe, loved, and cared for.

His love was like a dream you never wanted to wake from, more beautiful than anything you could’ve hoped for. In his presence, everything felt perfect, like you were exactly where you were always meant to be.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Long forgotten were those fallen flower petals, for the man you were asking them about already told you he loves you.

[dwaekkicidal]

Toys with Hyunjin

wc» ~1k words

cw» fem!reader, sex toy usage, mutual masturbation, somno, overstim

an» New series alert! :3 i wrote this soooo long ago and forgot about it but im glad i was able to finally post it (& yet another post inspired by an audio i really like….)

'Toys' Masterlist

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

His favorite: Rose Toy.

I could see him wanting to use this on you after discovering that you own one and seeing what it's used for/how its used. It’s generally a pretty toy, he’s never seen it before it doesnt really look like a sex toy! so hes naturally curious about it! I don’t think he’d use it on you unless you leave it laying around or unless you ask, but it mostly leads to super soft sessions between you two.

It all started when you fell asleep in the bed shared between you and your boyfriend. After being told that he would be home late you took it upon yourself to deal with the neediness you were feeling at the time. So you pulled out your favorite vibrating rose toy to do the job, already knowing that the feeling of your fingers wouldn’t even come close to the feeling of his. After finishing, you placed your toy on the nightstand and told yourself that you would put it away “in a second.” 

By the time your eyes are opening an hour later, you feel a hand between your legs that softly trails along your thighs teasingly. “There she is… hi, princess..” Your eyes flutter open and you realize it’s your lover’s hands and voice that was surrounding you. He pulls you even closer to him and you lean into him but he holds your hip to keep you positioned on your back. The hand between your legs trails higher and higher then runs along your folds as he places kisses to your temple.

“My love had some fun while waiting for me?” He asks with a kiss against your cheek, humming when you moan instead of answering. He swiftly removes his hand to grab the rose from your nightstand, holding it with 3 fingers while his ring finger rubs soft circles into your clit. “You won’t mind if I play with you a little bit now, right? I’ll do all the work and you can sit there and just look pretty for me.” You nod your head and he turns on the toy to the first & lowest setting, holding it so that it barely touches your clit. You whimper into his hold and he plays nice, pushing it further against you.

You moan again and shove your face into his neck as he turns it up one speed and you feel him draw tiny circles into your clit with the toy. He sighs against your hair and places kisses there, whispering into your ear something about how pretty you look all spread out for him. You wish you heard the full thing, but between the constant vibrations and the wet noises in between your legs, you’re a little distracted. But that doesn’t stop the onslaught of soft ‘You’re so pretty baby’s and ‘Doing so well for me, my love’s coming from him, nor does it stop his spare hand from intertwining with yours and resting against your hip.

He maneuvers around you slightly to press his lips to yours, swallowing your moans as your legs shake against his and you gush against the toy for the second time tonight. He trails his lips to your cheek and lets you ride out your high against the toy. He pulls it away but doesn’t turn it off just yet. Instead he uses his pinky on the hand with the toy to turn your head into his, pulling you into a soft and slow make out session.

You completely zone out against his lips, only realizing your surroundings when the vibrator is pushed against you once more. He lightly trails it up and down, and you suddenly realize that during the kiss he hooked your leg over his and pushed the other away to spread you out for him a little more. You pull away slightly to breathe and moan out against his lips when you feel the vibrations against your folds reach your puffy clit. Hyunjin wastes no time before pressing it back against your bud, and he mimics your moan before pecking the corner of your lip and whispering, “You can give me one more, right baby? Hmmm? My sleepy beauty… you can give me one more, love.” 

Your legs are trying to clamp shut against the toy as he pushes it harder against you. Hyunjin softly ruts himself against your thigh, moaning into your ear everytime your leg shakes or moves unconsciously against his dick in his boxers. One particularly loud moan from him pushes you to want to hear more from him, so your spare hand moves from its spot on his shirt down to his boxers. Where you stick your hand in and stroke him softly, not even bothering to try and pull his underwear down or off. He finally stops humping against you as your hand speeds up, switching between squeezing harder at the tip and dipping down to his balls to play with them.

Your orgasm comes just as fast as the last, and you squeeze your hand harder against him at the overstimulation. He pants into your ear, kissing the area behind it in between moans. As you cum, you shove your face in his neck and suckle against the skin. He finishes not long after you, moaning against your temple and placing a kiss between breaths.

Once you both calm down, he showers you in kisses and smiles against your face as you giggle. You pull away after what felt like too short of time, mumbling that you guys should clean up. He throws his head back and groans but gets up anyway, wiping the toy off before meeting you in the bathroom. The two of you clean up yourselves and each other in between kisses before returning to the bed and embracing each other again. His hair was soft as your fingers massaged his scalp and he rested his face against your chest.

“I love you, Hyunnie. So so much.”

“I love you too, Princess. Let’s sleep now, yeah?”

Taglist: (red=can't be tagged)

@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08

@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy

@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @bubblerizz

@mariteez @fun-fanfics @honeyybbuubblleess @kittycatkrissa

@nicora04 @chuuyaobsessed @moonlightndaydreams

@aeri-skzver

[freedomfireflies]

Pillow Talk*

Summary: The one where you and Harry both have insomnia, and decide to spend one very strange night together.

Word Count: 7.2k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, daddy kink, mentions of drugs, angst (w/ happy ending!), not suitable for Ramadan!

“Oh, absolutely not.”

“Come on. Just one time.”

“No. Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Probably. I haven’t slept in 32 hours.”

You huff as you hide yourself behind your door. You don’t even want to see him. Because you don’t want to have this conversation or entertain this idiotic idea. This is what Harry does. He plays games. He tricks and he ruins and if you open this door, you know you’ll regret it. 

“Poppy, please,” he calls, and you hear his forehead land on the wood as though to brace himself. “I’ve tried everything else, okay? It always works with you. I just…I wanted to try. See if it still does.”

You frown. “You realize how wildly inappropriate this is, right? Asking if you can come in just so we can sleep together?”

“Yeah, but that’s all I want to do. Sleep,” he insists again. “Really. I’ll keep my hands to myself and I won’t even talk to you.”

You consider this. Truthfully, you haven’t slept all that well since the breakup, either. And sure, you’ve longed for the nights when the two of you would fall into such an easy, simple, and incredibly effective routine. 

But he broke your heart. And now you’re both paying the price.

“Just one night,” he pleads again. “And if it doesn’t work, I swear I won’t bother you ever again.”

There’s a subtle ache in your chest. Just hearing his voice reminds you of the pain. Of the joy. Of every good moment and every bad one, all wrapped up in the same silky cadence.

You take a deep breath. Perhaps you’re curious, too. Even if you don’t want to be. Because maybe this will work. Maybe you’ll finally be able to rest and get on with your life.

Or maybe it won’t.

But at least if it doesn’t, maybe you can find some closure.

So, with that thought…you open the door. 

He looks worse than you’ve ever seen him. Which makes you just a touch happy if you’re being honest with yourself. His usual curls are askew and unkept. The bags under his eyes are dark and his clothes are wildly wrinkled.

And you’re surprised. He’s been up for longer than 32 hours before and handled it much better. You wonder if his age is catching up with him or if there’s something else keeping him awake.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

But you don’t fight with him. He’s not here to fight and you accept his terms as you widen the door and allow him to step inside.

He nods gratefully as he slips into your living room, but his eyes linger on your face. Almost like he doesn’t recognize you, and it makes your insides turn as you shut the door and put a few feet between you.

“What?” you huff.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know, you look…different.”

“Okay…?”

“You changed your hair.”

“Yeah.”

“Hm. It’s nice.”

You cross your arms. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Another pause, and the silence feels heavy.

“Well…do you wanna…?” you eventually say, and he nods.

“Right, yeah.”

“Okay.”

You turn to lead him to your room and it’s…unsettling how normal it feels. Like an old habit rearing its ugly head once again.

When you get there, his surprise returns. “You changed your room, too.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Why?”

Your eyes roll as you angrily toss your blankets back. “This is the one room I associated with you the most. And short of moving, I needed something you hadn’t touched or tainted. So I made the room mine again.”

He thinks about this, attention lingering on the new paint on the walls and the new furniture in each corner. “I like it.”

“I don’t care.”

He smiles. “I know.”

“Great. Can you get in the bed please so we can get this over with?”

Obliging, he slips off his shoes and joins you under the duvet. “Never thought I’d hear you say that again.”

“Never thought I’d have to say it.”

“Mm. You changed your mattress.”

“Obviously.”

“And the sheets and blankets, too.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Is there anything in here you didn’t change?”

“The carpet. But only because my landlord said I couldn’t.”

“Right.” He’s smiling again. “But you did get a rug.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s nice.”

“Bite me.”

He laughs now and you want to smack him. “I see you still get grumpy when you’re tired.”

“No, I get grumpy when my asshole of an ex shows up to my apartment at 3 in the morning demanding to be let in so he can sleep in my bed with me like a fucking child,” you argue. And you know you’re being snippy and maybe even rude, but he deserves it. After everything he’s put you through, you deserve to be in charge of your own emotions. 

You turn the lamp off and the dark room grows incredibly quiet. You’re both stiff, unable to relax when you’re this close. You don’t want to touch—not the way you used to. And you don’t want to be close or let your guard down, although you suppose you’ll have to in order to sleep.

And then he says, “I really did try, you know. To find another way to sleep.”

You look up at the ceiling and release a soft exhale. “Okay.”

“Melatonin, light therapy, cut out coffee. Even drank those…sleep mocktail things everyone talks about.” He shifts. “I don’t know, I guess my brain just wouldn’t turn off.”

“Yeah. I know.”

More quiet.

“I haven’t done any since we broke up,” he finally says. Gentle, like he’s afraid to break the silence. 

Your lashes flutter. He doesn’t have to say it for you to know what he means. “Great.”

“Yeah.” Another beat. “I thought it was work, I guess. Maybe the stress or something. I’ve been sleeping fine, but these past couple weeks…”

“Right.”

“And I just figured—”

“No, I got it. It’s fine, let’s just…let’s just try to sleep,” you say and he nods.

The bedroom settles and you try, you really do. But you can’t when he’s breathing so goddamn loud and shifting every two seconds and sighing like he’s in pain.

“What?” you eventually hiss.

“Are you dating someone?” he asks.

“What?”

“Are you dating someone?” he repeats. “Josie said you were.”

You hesitate. “I don’t know. Kind of. I guess.”

“You guess?”

“We’re…we’ve been on a few dates. It’s not official.”

“He hasn’t asked you to be his girlfriend?”

“Why does it matter?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t. I just figure you deserve someone that actually wants to date you.”

“Oh, do I?” You roll your head to look at him. “Funny, you didn’t seem to think so when you were dating me.”

“All right, touché,” he mumbles. “I could have been better, I know that. And I know I took advantage. You did a lot for me and I didn’t…I didn’t care.”

Surprised, you twist your fingers together. “Uh…yeah. Right. Thank you.”

His head rolls, too. And even with the dim-light, his eyes find yours. “I’m sorry, Poppy. You really did deserve better than me. And if you found it with this guy…I’ll be happy for you.”

You swallow before sighing to yourself. “I mean, I don’t know if I did. He’s…he’s really nice. But he’s so…he’s just…”

“Vanilla?”

Your eyes widen. “Yeah. How did you—”

“He was wearing Crocs with tube socks.”

You laugh—loud. “Oh my god, how did you know?”

“I might have looked him up,” he admits through a grin. “Wanted to make sure he was worth your time.”

“Yeah? And?”

“And he wears Crocs with tube socks. He can’t make you cum.”

Your features scrunch together as you gasp and look away. “Ew, Harry. It’s not about that—”

“It’s always about that. Come on, am I wrong?”

“You—yes. What he wears has nothing to do with what he’s like in bed—”

“So he’s not vanilla?”

“He’s…” You pause. “He…look, he really tries—”

“So, he is,” Harry finishes for you. “Well, at least you got some.”

“I…yeah. Uh-huh.”

Instantly, he turns onto his side, head resting in the palm of his hand as he studies you. “He couldn’t get it up, could he?”

“Harry,” you groan, and reach out to swat him. “Stop, it wasn’t that. We just…we were taking things slow. We did some stuff. Just not…all of it.”

“So what he’d do?”

“Harry—”

“Come on, we’re adults, just tell me.”

“Ew, no—”

“Listen, you used to get fucked good. I’m just trying to help you get back to that.”

You frown but do oblige. “I don’t know. He ate me out and I blew him. That’s it.”

“And…?”

“And…I don’t know. He was fine. He was good.”

“Sure.”

Your eyes roll. “Okay, he…he wasn’t really all that into it. He stopped after a few seconds and asked if I came. Then he said his jaw was tired and that maybe we should just switch.”

Now, Harry’s features scrunch, too. “Shit. What a fucking pussy. Ironically.”

“I guess. It could have been worse.”

“Really? Eating you out was always my favorite. What kind of asshole just stops if he doesn’t have to?”

You feel a rush of heat through your body as you look away. “I guess they can’t all be you.”

“Damn fucking right,” he scoffs. “Seriously, you still wanted to see him after that?”

“He’s cute,” you argue. “And nice. And yeah, maybe he’s not that adventurous but that’s okay. I don’t need wild sex all the time.”

He’s quiet. “How about just one time?”

You turn back. “What?”

“I—okay, I was just thinking…you know, one of the things we would do when we couldn’t sleep was…fuck, so—”

“Oh, absolutely not.” You sit up, as though to put some distance between you. “No. Forget it—”

“Poppy—”

“Don’t call me that,” you huff. “You don’t get to call me that ever again. Okay, I’m not gonna fuck you just so we can sleep—”

“It wouldn’t be just for that,” he argues, sitting up as well. “It would also help your mood, too—”

“Oh, my mood?” You glare at him. “My mood is just fine, actually. In fact, I’d say it’s pretty good if I agreed to let you in my apartment in the first place—”

“You didn’t have to. I’m just saying, if sex with him is gonna be bland, might as well get in one last good fuck before you commit to a lifetime of boring—”

“Oh, my god. It’s not a lifetime and you’re a fucking asshole—”

“Yeah. We’ve established that. Doesn’t change the fact that you need it.”

You stare at him. “Is that why you’re really here? To trick me into sleeping with you?”

He leans back. “What? No. I don’t trick people into having sex, it was just a suggestion—”

“Yeah, a pretty dumb one. Did you honestly think I’d say yes?”

“Yeah,” he admits haughtily. “Yeah, because we didn’t break up over the sex. We broke up because you’re an uptight—”

“What? Say it,” you sneer. “Say it. I’m an uptight bitch because I wouldn’t let you do cocaine.”

He scoffs again and looks off into the dark of your room. The argument lulls. “I could never do anything right.”

“That wasn’t the problem and you know it.” You pull your legs to your chest. “I wanted to move forward and you kept going back. You’re almost 30 and you still act like you’re 19.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to get married and do the whole white picket fence life,” he says. “Maybe I liked things the way they were—”

“No. No, you liked parties with your friends and doing drugs that kept you up for hours  and getting fired and leaving me to pay all the bills—”

“You didn’t pay all the bills and I told you I would do what I could to help—”

“Yeah. But apparently that included getting fucked up and staying out all night just to crash the next day.” You study him closely. “You were never around anymore. I never saw you. We were on two different paths and the only time we ever talked was when you asked if I wanted to fuck.”

“So, that’s it, huh? I’m just a villain in your story. You were this perfect fucking princess, and I was a monster that ruined your life?”

“No, obviously not. I wasn’t perfect. I know that.”

“Do you?” His eyes flick between yours. “You didn’t want me to move forward with you. You liked your new job and your new friends because they didn’t remind you of me. Of who we both used to be.”

“So? I’m not proud of what I used to do. And sure, maybe I wanted to make a better impression on the people paying my salary and keeping me employed. Is that such a fucking crime?”

“No. But you didn’t want me to be a part of that impression and you know it.”

“Right. Because you were shit-faced all the time.”

He opens his mouth, ready to retort. But then he closes it. He closes it and he stares at you and then…he surges forward.

Even if you were given at least two seconds to prepare, you’re not prepared for the way his hands feel on your cheeks as he kisses you. As he presses his lips to yours and steals the labored breaths in your lungs.

But you don’t fight him. You know you should. Know you should push him off and berate him. Yet you let him kiss you. And you kiss him back. And it’s far too easy to slip back into this routine as his tongue slides against yours in such a teasing way.

Your stomach flips while your hands land on his lap. You’re desperate to be closer, to feel his body against yours. His skin, and the way it melts beneath your palms like butter. You dance this devious dance and before you know it, you’re stripping each other of the few clothes you have.

He starts with your shirt. Ripping it over your head before his mouth lands on your chest. Bare and beautiful to him. His kisses are wet and sloppy and you arch yourself closer as you drag your fingers down his scalp.

The only reason he stops is to let you peel his t-shirt off, too. And then his jeans and socks. And you move so fluidly, you’re nearly naked in under a minute. The only thing left between you now his underwear and yours.

He lays you down, gentle. Surprisingly gentle, given the anger that brought you here. And he gazes at you in a soft, unspoken way that says everything you don’t exactly know how to say. 

His fingers brush down your cheek as his body settles atop yours. He still fits between your legs like he was always meant to and the weight of him almost feels good.

“Are you all right?” he finally whispers, and he doesn’t sound like the same man from before. He sounds like the man you fell in love with. “Is this okay?”

You nod quickly, scared that if you think about it, you’ll ruin it. “Yeah. Go.”

He doesn’t. “We don’t have to,” he says. “You were right, it’s probably a dumb idea—”

“Yeah, but…it always works.” You shift beneath him and reach for his briefs, rolling them down his hips. “And I’m tired. Tired of fighting with you, tired of not getting any sleep…tired of pretending I hate you. You were right, our sex is good. So let’s do it. And then we can sleep. And we can finally move on.”

Not the most romantic of speeches, but it works. At least right now. He kisses you again and drags your underwear aside in order to tease you with the tip of his cock.

He feels like you remember. And maybe you find just a touch of comfort in that. There are no awkward pauses or confusion about what to do next. You don’t have to find your rhythm or anticipate the next step. You know him. And he knows you.

Your rub your clit in order to stimulate yourself. You aren’t exactly wet enough for this to be enjoyable, but you don’t expect him to do what he did before. The foreplay is up to you now and you’re more than all right with that.

However, he’s not. And he instantly swats your hand away in order to do it himself. Allowing his fingers to drag up and down your pussy until you shiver before he slips the tip of his middle finger inside.

“Shit,” he whispers. His forehead drops to yours. “Fucking missed this.”

You bite the inside of your lip to keep from grinning. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He starts to pump, bending your body to his salacious intentions until the unmistakable sound of wetness echoes throughout the room. “I know you missed it, too.”

“Hm. Don’t push it.”

“Why not?” He presses a kiss to your cheek. Then to your jaw. Your lips. Your nose. Your neck. Everywhere you used to love. “Are you really gonna tell me you didn’t?” 

“Maybe.”

“So Crocs with Tube Socks is better, huh?”

“…not exactly.”

“Right.” He adds a second finger and your eyes roll back. “Don’t worry, Poppy, I’ll fix it.”

“Don’t…call me that,” you pant again, and he chuckles.

“Don’t know what else to call you. You were always my pretty Poppy.”

“But now I’m not,” you say. “Now you call me nothing. Because I’m not yours to call.”

He sighs but does seem to obey, at least for now. And the faster he thrusts his hand, the needier this growing feeling becomes. Stronger and louder until you finally grab onto his shoulders and say, “Just put it in already.”

He smirks. “How romantic.”

“It’s not supposed to be. Just come on.”

So, he does. He takes hold of his cock and he slips it through the gathering arousal until he can push in. And you both reel.

Truthfully, you’ve missed the sounds he makes when he’s turned on. The way he groans and grits his teeth together. The way the muscles in his arms strain until you can see those beautiful veins you used to love to run your tongue over. 

He’s stunning. Even now, in the soft light of the moon through your curtains. His silhouette is unholy as it hovers above you. Strong hips beginning to thrust as you both work in tandem to find release.

And it’s closer than you expected. There’s something about him that can get you there even without much effort. Something Crocs with Tube Socks could never seem to figure out. 

Because he’s not Harry. And only Harry can play you like an instrument and make such symphonic music all with the flick of his finger and a thrust of his cock.

He kisses you again and you both feel anxious. Soft murmurings of praise and, “Keep going,” that have you arching from the bed and moaning into his mouth.

You’re sweating and gasping for air and clutching onto his back as you attempt to meet his rhythm with rolls of your own. You need this. You need to cum so you can find release and you need to cum so you can finally sleep and you need to cum because then you’ll finally be able to let him go. To close the door on the chapter of you and Harry and move the fuck on.

But how can you move on when you’re still under him? How can you insist that you’re fine and doing great if you’re so easily convinced to fuck him just so you can both get some sleep?

There are other remedies to insomnia that don’t involve his cock and maybe you should have tried that before you let him into your apartment. 

Either way, you’re coming before you can think twice about it. Raking your nails down his back and whimpering his name as he pulls out and finishes on your thigh. 

And just like that…

It’s over.

You find him in the kitchen about an hour later. You managed to sleep at least a few minutes before you felt the sadistic hand of insomnia pull you back out. But when you woke, Harry was gone. His clothes were still on the floor, so you knew he hadn’t left. But he wasn’t with you.

He’s staring out your kitchen window when you slip into the living room. You’re not sure if he hears you or not but if he does, he doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he keeps himself braced against the sink, clad in nothing more than his briefs.

Curious, you call, “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head. Silent. Contemplative. “I used to love this window,” he eventually says. Soft, like he’s reminiscing. “The way the light looked in the morning. The way your little crystals would put rainbows on the wall and you’d get so excited. How you’d make me dance with you to some Elton John song while we were literally in the middle of cooking.”

You blink. “Um…okay.”

He turns and his eyes find yours. “I fucking loved this apartment. And this kitchen. And that couch. And your room. And even the hallway. I loved being here, all the time. I hated going back to my place because it never felt the same.”

The silence grows louder now as you look down at your feet and pull your robe just a bit tighter. “I know,” you finally whisper. “That’s why I changed it.”

“I know,” he whispers back. His expression falls. “You changed everything. This apartment, your life…us.”

“Because I had to,” you argue, glancing back up. “I had to, Harry. I couldn’t keep going in circles. I couldn’t drag you along behind me into the future when you clearly wanted to be anywhere else.” 

“Because the future you always painted didn’t seem to have room for me,” he huffs. “Okay, with all these dinner parties and fancy houses and good school districts. You’d planned out the next 30 years and I didn’t see myself anywhere in your picture.”

“I didn’t fucking care about the parties or the school districts,” you nearly yell. “God, I—I didn’t want the white picket fence life. I didn’t want the 1950’s American Dream shit you keep thinking I did. I just wanted you. Yes, I wanted a good job with insurance and stability. But I wasn’t gonna trade what we had just for that—”

“But you did. You didn’t tell your parents we’d moved in together. You didn’t even tell half of our friends. You went on trips without me and you stopped telling me about your day and we never talked—”

“Because you were never around! You were either out with your friends getting drunk or high or you were in there playing video games because you’d had a ‘hard day.’ So, no. I didn’t want to talk to you when I knew you weren’t even listening in the first place.”

 He leans against the counter and crosses his arms. Angry. Indignant. “You resented me. You resented the fact that we were together and you resented that I wasn’t perfect like your precious new friends—”

“Oh, that’s—” You pinch the bridge of your nose and force in a deep breath. “No. I didn’t want you to be like them. I didn’t want you to act pretentious and stuffy and talk about the stock market every goddamn second of the day. The only thing I resented…was the fact that you wouldn’t take care of yourself.”

“I was taking care of myself—”

“Bullshit. You were doing drugs—you were doing cocaine—and you weren’t eating, you weren’t sleeping, you nearly drunk yourself to death—”

“Right, but I wasn’t doing it all the time. It was just…it was occasionally, and it wasn’t a lot—”

“I don’t care. You shouldn’t have been doing it at all, Harry,” you finally shout. “You…you scared the shit out of me. Every time one of your friends would call and say you were passed out, I thought…I thought this was it. I thought I was gonna lose you. Do you know how many times I just sat on the floor and cried because I was so scared? Because you never wanted to listen when I told you to stop? Because you were so sure you were invincible?”

He seems pained by this, features wilting as he takes a tentative step forward. But he stops when you move back. “Poppy, I wasn’t trying to scare you, I…I didn’t know—”

“Yes, you did,” you scoff. “I told you, over and over that I didn’t want to lose you, but you thought I was being dramatic.”

He nods once. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?”

“Yeah. I am.” He looks at you. “S’why I stopped after we broke up. You were right, I needed to get my shit together.”

You nod, too. “Good. I’m glad.”

His gaze dances around the kitchen. “I hate that you changed everything,” he says again, and your heart wrenches. “I hate that it doesn’t look like it used to. I hate that I hurt you so bad that you felt like you had to erase everything I ever touched.”

You step closer and wipe a tear from your cheek. “Yeah, I hate it, too. I hate that I had to. I hate that stupid mattress and I hate that my kitchen doesn’t look like a rainbow anymore and I really fucking hate that I have no one to dance with when I cook.”

His eyes soften as they find yours and in only a few seconds, he’s reaching for the belt on your robe and tugging you to him. Wrapping you in his arms as he presses you against his chest, the way he always used to when you were sad.

“No,” you argue weakly, although you do nothing to stop him. “No, you can’t…you can’t—”

“Yes, I can,” he retorts quietly. You feel his lips press to the top of your head. “You don’t get to cry over me anymore. You’re better than that now. You did what I couldn’t. You moved on. And I don’t get to ruin that for you.”

You sniffle as you run your hand down his stomach. “It wasn’t about moving on. I just needed to learn how to be strong enough for both of us.”

“Poppy,” he breathes and holds you tighter. “You shouldn’t have to be.”

And deep down…you know he’s right.

“Shit, just like that…a little closer. Good girl, hold yourself open for me, baby. Yeah.”

Doing your best to oblige, you slip your fingers between your folds as Harry nudges his nose closer. Kissing his way along your thighs before allowing his tongue to lick a very generous stripe up your pussy.

Round 2 is on the couch. Harry wanted the kitchen counter—nearly insisted on it, in fact—but you knew you didn’t want to ruin your favorite breakfast spot. And you weren’t about to just for him.

So, the couch it was. He complained about it as you got settled. He hates this new couch, too. The color, the lumpy cushions, the way it feels like you’re sinking when you sit. 

You told him you didn’t care. You loved it and if it annoyed him, that was a bonus.

Thankfully, he swallowed his complaints in favor of swallowing you. He tossed your robe open and pulled your thighs apart. And then he buried himself between the warmth of your pussy the way he always used to.

And you decided that maybe you don’t mind insomnia so much if this is the remedy.

“Missed this, too,” he says now as he nips at your clit. “God, you’ve always tasted so fucking good. S’fucking crazy, baby. Can’t ever get enough.”

“Sure,” you snort, head dropping back. “I’m sure you say that to all the girls—”

“No.” He shakes his head and his nose nudges the sensitive nerves as you whine. “No, there’s no other girls. Come on, did you really think there could be?”

“With a mouth like that? Yeah,” you admit. He laughs. “That’s how we met. You were such—fuck—such a player.”

“Maybe,” he concedes before mouthing at you again. “But nobody else has ever made me feel the way you do.”

You snort. “Where’d you learn that line?”

“It’s not a line. It’s the truth.”

“Harry. Come on. I know you.”

“Then you should know I don’t say shit I don’t mean.” He smooths his palms down your thighs in order to spread you just a bit further and see the way your hole flutters. “Oh, pretty girl. S’just drenched, hm? All sensitive from the last one…need Daddy to make it better?”

You scrunch your nose. “You don’t get to call yourself that anymore.”

“No?” He grins. “Why not?”

“Because I hate you and Daddy is reserved for someone I like.”

He tsks. “I don’t know, kind of seems like you still like it. Keep clenching around my tongue like you wanna hear me say it again.”

You hesitate as you weave your fingers through his curls. “Never.”

He hums and the vibration against your cunt makes your thighs twitch. “Come on, baby. Don’t be mean to Daddy.”

You want to glare. Slap at him, refuse him. But he’s right—you have missed the moniker. If only just because of how good he sounds when he says it. So, you let him tease you and taunt you as he tastes you. You let him do whatever the hell he wants because your second orgasm feels stronger than the first and you don’t imagine you’ll survive this one. 

He slips a finger in as well. Beckons your pleasure closer with every curl of the large digit. It’s practiced. He sucks and licks and nips and thrusts and curls and pumps all at the same time.

Then, he pulls back and brings his palm down in a sharp smack to your pussy. 

“Stop squirming,” he instructs, then shoots you an obviously pleased frown. “Don’t be a brat.”

“M’not,” you whimper. “Not a brat…just wanna cum.”

“Do you, hm?” He licks you again then adds two fingers. “Should I let you?”

“Obviously.”

“Obviously?” He’s smirking now as he starts to go faster. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you do deserve it. Yeah? After being so nice as to let me in.”

You pout. “Mhm.”

He’s so happy. He’s always his happiest when he’s suffocating himself with your pussy. He does everything he knows you love. He leaves teasing kisses to the inside of your thighs. He slaps at your leg, your clit, your hip. He helps rock you against his tongue and even lifts you from the couch to find a deeper angle. 

And he does all of this out of sheer enjoyment. 

“Harry,” you whimper as you melt into the cushions. Your limbs feel like jello. The pleasure is everywhere, and he looks like a god. His face is covered in you, glistening about as bright as the stars.

“I know, Poppy,” he says. He kisses your pussy and then smiles at you. “I know.”

You like the way Harry’s chest feels. Warm and soft and painted in the tattoos you used to trace with your finger.

He’s gently scratching your back as you both lay in bed. The room is quiet—you haven’t spoken in minutes. Still, neither of you can seem to find sleep and you know you’ll desperately need it soon. 

But this is nice. Even if it is the last time. You like getting to reminisce—pretend for even a moment that things are the way they used to be. When you were happy and safe and content to be together.

You weren’t sure you’d ever feel this kind of peace again.

“I missed you, too, you know,” he whispers after a moment.

You glance up. 

“I didn’t just miss your apartment. I missed you.” He takes a breath and runs his palm along your spine. “I miss our Sunday mornings and I miss when we’d watch scary movies just so we could make out and I miss the way you used to dance around in your underwear to some stupid musical you were obsessed with.”

You swallow a lump in your throat. “Har…”

“And I don’t know what happened,” he says. “I felt like…I felt like I was watching you do all these amazing things and I just couldn’t keep up. You were getting promoted and moving up and I was still at the fucking bar serving drinks. And you knew what you wanted to do. I didn’t.”

“I didn’t know,” you argue gently. “Not really. I hate my job. I hate that I don’t enjoy it the way I used to. I mean, I like that it pays the bills, but maybe that shouldn’t be enough.”

He presses his cheek to the top of your head. “You should do what makes you happy.”

“You used to make me happy.”

The soft strokes against your spine slow. 

“You did, Har,” you tell him. “So happy. That’s why I hated that we started fighting all of the time. I hated that you were gone or that I was gone or the fact that I was too ashamed to tell you that I missed you. And that I was scared we were losing each other.”

“Maybe we needed to lose each other,” he says and you feel sick. “Maybe we needed to be apart to see what we really wanted.”

You think about this. The idea sounds nice. Inviting. A happy end to a rather dreadful story.

But you both know better. Five months has taught you better.

“There’s a reason we broke up,” you finally murmur. “We didn’t…we didn’t like each other anymore. We were holding each other back—”

“I liked you,” he says softly. “I loved you. Yeah, I was mad, but I didn’t just stop loving you.” 

“Maybe you should have. Maybe it would have been easier for us and we wouldn’t be…here.”

More silence. It stretches for what feels like hours.

And then, “I can’t sleep because of you.”

You suck in a quiet breath. “What?”

“When Josie told me that you were seeing someone, I couldn’t…I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And she showed me a picture she took of you guys and you were so happy. Smiling at him like you used to smile at me and I just…I didn’t know what to do.”

Another pause. You don’t know what to say.

“I put my fist through a wall,” he tells you. “And somehow, that still didn’t hurt as much as knowing you’d moved on.”

You snake your arm around his middle and snuggle closer. “Harry, you knew we both had to move on eventually.”

“Did we?”

“Harry…”

“But so soon? It’s only been five months.”

“Yeah. Five months to grieve you and cry over you and realize I did this for you.” You close your eyes. Tight. “We’re better people now.”

“No, we’re tired people now,” he teases, and you smile. “And I think I’ll be losing sleep over you for the rest of my life.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I mean it. I’m always gonna think about you. Think about what I did wrong. What I could have done better.”

“I fucked up, too,” you argue. “I should have told my parents. And our friends. I should have talked to you more, asked you to do more things together. You’re right, I was ashamed of you. Of this…routine we’d fallen into. And I’m sorry.”

He says nothing. After all, there’s nothing more to say.

But he kisses the crown of your head and it speaks louder than any words.

“Fuck…fuck, Poppy, please—”

You grin as you lick your lips. He’s always sounded the most beautiful when he’s begging. And his best begging always tends to happen when his cock is down your throat. 

“What, Daddy?” you ask innocently. “What do you need me to do?”

His eyes roll back and he grips the sheets in his fist. “Please…”

You reposition yourself over his legs as you dip back down to have another taste. You lick and you suck and you stroke until he’s making another strained noise that sounds like sex.

You hope your neighbors can hear. You bet they missed him.

“Good boy,” you purr, squeezing his thighs as you take him even further. 

He sucks in a sharp breath through gritted teeth before his hand finds your hair and he squeezes. “Easy…easy, baby. S’been a while. Don’t hurt yourself—”

You respond to his instruction by inhaling through your nose and relaxing the muscles in your throat. Allowing him to hit the back the way he always used to.

His head drops into the pillows. “Shit—Poppy, I mean it. M’not gonna fuck your throat. It’s gonna hurt and I don’t wanna hurt you anymore.”

It’s an oddly thoughtful gesture but it does nothing for you now. Instead, you shake your head and pull off, a string of saliva dripping down his cock in your wake. “I’m fine, H. Trust me, I can take it.”

“Yeah?” He pushes up onto his elbows. “Is Crocs with Tube Socks hung or something?”

You grin. “No. But that dildo you got me last year is.”

He blinks. “You…fucking hell, you fuck your throat with that?”

“Mhm.” You swirl your tongue around his tip as he curses. “And then I fuck myself. And I pretend it’s you.”

He tightens his hold on your hair and forces your eyes back to his. “Are you serious?”

You nod, now feeling a touch shy as you wipe your mouth with your knuckles. “Yeah…I know that’s…probably weird, but…I mean, you got it for me, so I thought I’d be weirder to think about someone else—”

“No, it’s…” He stops. Struggles. “Shit, I really needed to hear that.”

“Oh, you did, huh?” 

“Yeah. I wouldn’t want you to think about anyone else when you used it, either. It’s got my fucking initials on it.”

You laugh, louder than you mean to and it makes him grin. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it? It was a pretty good gift, I’ll admit.”

“S’a fucking perfect gift,” he retorts. “We had a lot of fun with that dildo.”

“We did indeed.”

“But apparently not as much fun as you’re having with it.”

“Fucking myself helps me sleep,” you remind him. “So sometimes it’s necessity.”

“Is that right?” 

“Mhm.” You squeeze the base and he twitches. “You used to watch me. Remember?”

“I do.” His eyes get darker. “Do you fuck yourself a lot?”

“…these days, yeah. Apparently, I can’t sleep all that well, either.”

“And does it work?”

“Most of the time, yeah.” You turn your attention back to his cock in order to avoid his curiosity before you quietly admit, “Sometimes I pretend you’re here. Sleeping next to me. And…that helps, too.”

He reaches for your wrist and pulls your attention back. “Poppy—”

“No, don’t look at me like that, it’s dumb—”

“I imagine you, too.”

You blink. “You do?”

“Every night. Except the past couple weeks. Cause now I just think about you and him. And then I can’t fucking sleep.”

You turn your hand so your fingers brush through his. “Shit. We’re a mess.”

He smiles. “Yeah.”

The conversation falls away as you dip back down to resume your work. Squeezing his balls, moaning as you take him on your tongue, and milking him for every last drop. 

Turns out, you missed the taste of him, too.

Morning comes before either of you find a moment of rest. But you can feel yourself growing tired. Your eyelids are beginning to droop, and your body feels incredibly spent. 

Turns out, round 4 is where the magic happened. He brought out your favorite vibrator and teased your poor, swollen clit with it until you squirted. It was easy and quick and he seemed rather delighted to be bathed in you.

Until, of course, you insist on an actual bath to clean you both.

The shower felt good. The warm water washing away the sticky sweat on your skin. And the two of you fell back into a similar routine. He ran the soap down your arms and you washed his curls with your favorite shampoo. A shampoo he claimed he looked everywhere for after you broke up but could never find.

He said he missed the smell. The way it made his hair so soft. And the way it would make his pillowcase smell just like you.

You were grateful that the shower hid your tears.

You both crashed on the couch after you had dried off. The sheets still needed to be cleaned and neither of you could be bothered. But, as it turned out, the couch was growing on him. And he begrudgingly admitted it was rather comfy as the two of you curled up in your usual spot. 

You know you’re both close to sleep. Finally, after all your efforts to get here. But you also know that once you wake up, Harry will leave. 

And there’s a chance you won’t see him again.

You know that nothing has changed. The two of you still want different things, even if you want each other. And you hate that that’s not enough. That what you want and what you should want don’t align.

Instead, he’ll move on with his life and you’ll move on with yours.

But you don’t want to learn how to fall asleep without him.

“Make me a deal,” you whisper.

He hums. Lashes shut tight as the morning light slips in through the window. “What?”

“If I wake up, and you’re still here…we do this again. Not…as a couple. But as two broken humans that find rest with each other.”

His eyes open.

“But if you’re gone,” you continue, “then we don’t. We don’t do it again, we don’t see each other again, we don’t reach out again. We cut ties. Officially. Block and move on. For real.”

He seems saddened by this, and you hate that you’ve made him sad. But you both know it’s for the best. This won’t be sustainable in the long run. And maybe it’s a bad idea to continue at all, but maybe you want to hold on to him anyway. At least for a little while.

Even if it’s just as friends.

Exes.

Two broken humans that used to make each other whole.

His lips press together and he nods once. “Deal,” he agrees, and you can tell by the look on his face, he’s already made a decision.

You aren’t sure which way, but you suppose you’ll find out soon enough. So, you allow your eyes to fall shut and your dreams to take hold. Melting into his arms and into the sofa as you finally find sleep quicker than you have in months.

You’re not sure how long you’re out. It feels like hours. A heavy slumber that leaves you rather refreshed as your eyes eventually flutter open. 

You don’t see Harry as you slowly adjust to your surroundings. And you don’t feel him, either. But you’re too afraid to really look. To sit up and realize that he’s gone. For good.

And then, just when you think you’ve lost him…you hear the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Good morning, Poppy.”

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @laelamarley @myalovesharry

[honey-on-your-tongue]

Nsfw/smut

Part 1 here!!

You don't know how to work with Miguel. You can't meet his gaze, can't talk to him. How are you supposed to just keep going on with your life when you heard everything? When you took a peek and saw what he was doing while calling your name?

He was jerking off to you! How are you supposed to just keep going as if nothing were wrong?!

You can't stop thinking about it, the way he'd groaned, the thick breathing, the look on his gorgeous, gorgeous face...

You shake yourself out of it. You've got work to do. The spiderverse won't protect itself...

...Maybe just for a minute?

As the memories of Miguel rush through your mind, you can feel your body grow hot. You can't stop thinking about how he'd bitten his lower lip, or how big he is. Granted, Miguel is huge in every aspect, you were just curious about that last one. And now you know.

An uncomfortable little bubble of arousal grows between your thighs, your pussy pulsating with desire.

You glance around your small corner office. No security cameras, no one else around, door closed...

Miguel did it. Why can't you?

You slide your hands down your body, between your legs, tracing your middle finger against your clothed cunt. You add pressure on your clit, shuddering at the slight relief and pleasure that flows at the touch.

You spread your legs some, adding more strength, more need to each movement. Soon, you're sweating, panting, images of Miguel invading your brain.

You can hear his breathing, see his eyes shut tight, his fist around his enormous cock...

You touch yourself until you're close. So close. Your orgasm is right there, just a few seconds away—

A knock sounds on the door before it unexpectedly swings open.

You manage to pull your hand away at the last second. And there stands the man himself.

“Miguel!” you just about squeak, trying to keep your breathing regular.

He eyes you suspiciously. “You okay?” he asks. When you don't answer immediately, he glances around your office, searching for something.

You look flustered, nervous. You're sweating and he could hear you panting across the goddamn hall.

And then he smells it. The scent of your sweet, thick arousal.

He turns back to you, not a doubt in his mind about what you were doing. His eyes sharpen, grow dark. The tips of his fangs peek between his lips.

You find yourself pressing your thighs together involuntarily.

“What's going on?” he demands, voice thick and rough.

You swallow thickly. “N-nothing. Nothing's going on.”

His eyes grow impossibly darker. “No me mientas.” Don't lie to me.

“I'm not!” you insist.

He doesn't buy it. After a long, tense pause, he pinches the bridge of his nose and says, “Don't make this harder on yourself. I know what you were doing.” The firmness and unwavering belief in his voice lets you know he really does know.

“Well I-I know what you were doing,” you blurt. Your eyes widen and your cheeks blush when you realize what you've said.

He frowns, putting his hands on his hips. “What are you talking about?”

There's no taking it back now. “I saw you,” you say. “Yesterday afternoon. In your office. I saw you and I heard you.”

By the expression on his face, you know he's aware of what, exactly, you're talking about.

“Mierda,” he curses. You just kind of sit there, eyes on his. “Mierda.”

For some reason, you can't shut yourself up. “I...I heard you say my name,” you admit, blushing as if you had any reason to be embarrassed. Well, maybe you shouldn't have stayed and watched but...still, it's not your fault he's jerking off to you.

“La puta madre,” he hisses, pinching the bridge of his nose again. “Fuck. I...I'm sorry—”

“It's okay—”

“I didn't mean—I didn't know you were listening, obviously—”

“Miguel, don't worry about it—”

“I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable—”

You keep fucking talking. “If it makes you feel any better, I was thinking about you while I did it too.”

That shuts him up. He stares at you, blinking. “What?”

You feel the need to explain. You keep fucking it up. “I-I was thinking about you while I touched myself,” you tell him. “I...don't know if that makes you feel any better, but I thought you should know.”

He takes a few steps until he's standing in front of you. “Tienes idea de lo que te va a pasar?” Do you have any idea what's going to happen to you right now?

You shake your head, terror spreading through your veins. Are you...fired? Is he going to send you back to your universe? Is he going to ban you from the spider society?

“Bend over the desk,” he instructs, his voice low and quiet, sending a shudder up your spine.

That takes you by surprise. “W-what?” you stutter.

He picks you up and roughly bends you over the desk, pushing your chest against the wood and kicking your feet apart. “I only say things once. I don't like repeating myself. You won't get warnings with me.” His hand grips your hip roughly, squeezing it hard. “Have I made myself clear?”

“Y-yes, sir,” you whine.

He grins; you can hear his smirk. “Atta girl.”

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Blog masterlist

[hoshifighting]

      lee chan + exhibitionism

— chan always wants to prove his hyungs that he is the best in everything he does. everything he does.

WARNINGS: +18, smut, public sex, sex in front of members (seungcheol, jeonghan, mingyu), multiple orgasms, hair pulling, ass spanking, dirty talks, rough sex, overwhelming, mentions of aftercare

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

you always knew chan had this thing. this... desperate need to prove himself. like, you could see it in the way he acted around the boys. always tryin’ to be the best at everything—whether it was dancing, working out, or, well...

fucking you in the middle of the goddamn dorm.

“shit—y/n,” he growls, voice low, strained. he’s got you bent over the couch, your knees digging into the cushions, arms already shaky from how many times he’s made you cum. “i’m good at this, aren’t i? tell me i’m good at this.” he’s pulling your hair, yanking your head back to force the words outta you.

but you can’t speak. hell, you can barely breathe.

and of course, it’s not just him watching. no, his hyungs are all fucking there—watching attentive. seungcheol’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, eyes narrowed like he’s fucking judging you both. jeonghan’s sitting on the floor, lookin’ bored, twirling a strand of his hair, while mingyu’s just snickering in the background.

“yeah, sure you’re good, maknae,” jeonghan teases, not even bothering to hide the sarcasm. “but is she enjoying it? or are you just putting on a show for us?”

you can practically feel chan’s frustration rise, surging through him as he grips your waist harder, the slap of skin echoing in the room as he fucks into you even deeper. the burn in your thighs spreads, and you’re sure your ass is already red from how many times he’s smacked it.

“tell ‘em,” chan pants between thrusts, his voice hoarse, sweat dripping down his forehead. “tell ‘em how good it feels.”

you choke out a moan, but it’s like you’re not even here anymore, lost in this haze of pleasure. all you can do is nod, not even able to form proper words.

and then seungcheol pipes up, his tone cold and curious. “what if she’s faking it?”

the room goes fucking still.

you freeze. chan freezes. it’s like the air’s been sucked out of the room, and for a second, no one says a damn thing. you think maybe chan will brush it off, but nope—he’s not that type. instead, he flips you over so fast you barely have time to react, your body hitting the cushions, and before you know it, he’s on you again, pounding into you even harder.

“i’ll fucking prove it,” chan snarls, eyes wild, his hips slamming into you with a force that’s knocking the breath out of your lungs. “you’re not faking this, are you?” his fingers dig into your hips, the pressure almost too much as your arms give out, collapsing on the couch, as he spanks your ass to make you spasm.

you’re sobbing now, full-on sobbing, but not from pain. fuck no, it’s the stimulation, the way your body’s betraying you, the way you can’t stop cumming, again and again, even when you feel like you’re about to break. you can hear mingyu laughing in the background, jeonghan muttering something under his breath about how “chan’s finally showing off,” but it all feels distant, drowned out by the way your body’s responding to chan’s relentless fucking.

“see,” chan grits out, his voice rough, close to breaking. “she’s not faking it. fuck, she’s not faking it.” he’s slamming into you so hard now that your whole body’s shaking, your sobs mixed with moans you didn’t even know you had left.

“prove it,” seungcheol mutters again, and chan’s grip tightens, his pace becoming almost punishing as he makes a point—he wants to show them, show them all that he’s good, that he’s the fucking best at this too.

and he does. you scream his name, hands fisting into the cushions as you cum for what feels like the hundredth time, tears spilling down your cheeks. your whole body’s trembling, your legs shaking so hard you’re sure you won’t be able to stand for hours after this.

“fuck,” mingyu whistles low, clearly impressed now. jeonghan raises an eyebrow, giving a slow, lick on his own lips.

chan leans down, his breath hot against your ear. “see? told you,” he murmurs, his voice soft but cocky. “told you i was good.” he gives one last, brutal thrust before pulling out, and you collapse into the couch, a shaky mess, unable to do anything but breathe.

“not bad, maknae,” jeonghan says, while seungcheol just nods, looking you over with a smirk. “guess you weren’t faking it after all.”

“never doubted him for a second,” mingyu adds, snickering, and you groan, burying your face in the cushions.

chan just grins, clearly proud of himself, leaning back against the couch and wiping the sweat off his forehead. he’s still breathing heavy, but there’s this smugness in his expression that makes you roll your eyes—even though you can’t deny it... he was fucking amazing.

“you’re insufferable,” you mumble, your voice hoarse, but there’s no denying the way your body’s still trembling, your legs like jelly beneath you.

chan just laughs, ruffling your hair as if he hadn’t just fucked you senseless in front of his hyungs. “yeah, but i’m good at everything, right?”

you don’t answer, but the small, satisfied smile on your lips says enough.

“you good at after care? she'll need it...” seungcheol says before he leaves the room. “or do you need some help?” he screams from the kitchen.

“ya! hyung what the hell?” he frowns.

you hear seungcheol laughing from far, was clearly a joke, so you just kiss chan, as mingyu brings some towels for chan to clean you.