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digitald0rk · 2 months ago

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CHERRY BOMB

pairing : mark grayson x fem! reader [ implied childhood friends ]. synopsis : he's whipped — more than the cream on your milkshake. warnings : kinda suggestive. like one swear word. w.c : 2.0k. a/n : i cannot stick to a theme >:( taglist : @vm4879bb-blog @fairii-majii @rayaaa4444 @hihowyoudoin00 @hepdeerness @wadehowl3tt

this is pathetic.

he is pathetic.

william was showing him a song from some new band he discovered and all mark can think about is how this song reminds him of you.

his muse, his reason for living. his heart, it beats for you but it also aches — longs for you like no other. oh how he wishes you'd take the pain away and maybe kiss his heart better, like you kissed his small injuries better when you both were children.

he can't stop thinking about how he'd love to slow dance with you to this song, he's not the best dancer — he'll probably end up stepping on your foot, but if it makes you laugh, he'd make a fool out of himself every time, just to see your lips curl up into that beautiful smile and hear the sweet sound of your laughter again and again, the thought makes him smile out of nowhere, making william roll his eyes fondly.

“you with me lover boy?”

right, even william knows, but it's not because he's his best friend, hell almost everyone knows, it would be hard not to with the way his eyes go all soft, slowly blinking— pupils turning into hearts and a soft smile tugs at his lips at the mere mention of your name.

he's so far gone for you.

“what- yes ‘course i’m with you,” he clears his throat, lying through his teeth.

“and i’m not gay.”

it can’t be that obvious, surely.

he hears his phone buzz with the ringtone he’s set for you and immediately reaches for it, grinning like an idiot — a very lovesick one at that, happy you’ve agreed on going to the newly opened cafe with him.

it really is that obvious huh?

he's trying not to run his hand through his hair for the nth time as he waits for you nervously at the cafe, this isn't even a date — he would probably pass out from his nerves alone if it was.

he straightens up when he smells your perfume, the scent lingering in the air, ah hear you come. he quickly glances at his phone screen, making sure his hair isn't a mess or anything.

“hi,” you greet him, your voice — a melody he's grown incredibly fond of, it's something that has helped him so much when he was at rock bottom, it brings him unimaginable joy, yet it also sometimes makes him want to rip his ears off — that sweet voice of yours is also pure torture everytime he realizes he can't have you, he can't possibly risk your precious friendship, that's selfish. and he tries to convince himself everyday that he isn't selfish, but he's not so sure anymore.

“you okay?” oh right he hasn't responded yet, too busy staring at your face, the one he wants to kiss all over.

“yeah sorry . . . just you know,” he leans in, heartbeat increasing, “had another bad guy to take care of,” he whispers, eyes darting to your lips for a split second.

he shouldn't have done that.

not because you're one of his best friends, no, but because now he can't get the thought of pressing his lips against yours out of his head.

although he'd argue he'd end up thinking about that one way or the other.

“ah i see, hope it didn't tire you out too much”

“nah i’m good,” he flashes you a small smile, a kiss from you would be nice though, he thinks.

as you two decide what to order, his gaze keeps drifting to you — the way the light plays across your features, the subtle furrow of your brows as you contemplate what sweet treat to order, eyes focused on the menu unlike him.

and then a strand of your hair falls out of place right on your face. just great, now he has to hold himself back from tucking it behind your ear. it's like the universe is torturing him, but he'll take any of this torture as long as you promise to remain by his side, as long as you're here, he's happy.

he's too busy daydreaming about you so when the waiter asks for his order it takes him a while to snap back to his senses, quickly saying the name of the first thing his eyes land on.

“matcha?” you ask a little surprised as the waiter heads off to get your orders going.

he doesn't like matcha.

“uh yeah, thought i’d give it a try again, give it another chance” maybe you should give him a chance too.

okay he's getting a little carried away, but he can't really help himself. not when it comes to you.

as conversation flows easily between you two — packed with familiar banter, teasing and inside jokes, a warm fuzzy feeling settles inside his chest curling up around his heart, his heart overflowing with love for you.

but will you ever know the extent of his love?

he'd rather not think about that bitter thought while you're excitedly rambling about some new show you watched — god you're adorable, he wants to keep you in his pocket. he's all smiles and giggles, a soft flush adorning his cheeks which can be chalked up to the warm weather but, he knows better.

and maybe you should know better too and then kiss him.

he really wants to kiss you.

the softness in his eyes quickly disappears the second the waiter comes back with your drinks and food, muttering some flirty remark towards you.

his gaze bores holes into the back of the waiter's head, eyes only leaving him when he's out of his sight. he knows he has no right — you're not even his, but he can't bear the thought of you being with someone else, it makes him sick.

“go on, try it. i wanna see the look of pure disgust on your face,” you chuckle, taking a sip of your sweet strawberry milkshake.

oh right the matcha.

he gulps nervously, taking a small sip of his matcha, immediately regretting it, mark has always been expressive and by the looks of it, you were right.

“good?” you jokingly ask. he huffs amusedly, “so good,” he says sarcastically, playing along.

he's thankful you ordered him a piece of his favorite type of cake without him asking, you know him so well — or maybe you don't, considering you don't know how he'd give up everything he has just to be with you.

“this is really good,” he says absentmindedly as he savors the taste of the sweet treat, hands itching to wipe the small amount of whipped cream on the corner of your lips.

“really? can i have a bite?”

a bite? you've got to be joking. you know you can have the whole thing right? you can have him — his soul that he's sure is intertwined with yours with the way his chest aches when you're not around and his heart, it's already yours. it's always been yours, was never his to begin with. you can have the world, he'd give it to you to the best of his ability, but sure you can take a bite.

he can't stop himself from smiling when he sees you enjoying a piece from his cake, he wants to see you happy, always. he doesn't like when you get sad, especially when he gets hurt, he always feels so guilty afterwards.

you even feed him a generous spoonful of your cake, which he happily accepts. he wonders if the other people in this cafe think you two are a couple — the thought makes him awfully giddy.

the matcha grows on him, or maybe it's the fact your presence alone is enough to distract him to down the whole thing easily.

“you want my cherry?” you ask, already plucking it from on top of the whipped cream on your milkshake, he doesn't protest against your offer, instead boldly leans in — hoping you'll feed it to him.

and you do, his lips brush ever so slightly against your fingers but it's enough to send a shiver down his spine.

the action is oddly intimate, especially with the way you're holding his gaze as he eats the sweet cherry, his body feels like it's on fire.

what kind of foreplay is this? he's gotta ask william.

“thanks,” he manages to mutter out, his voice cracking slightly.

he watches as you finish your milkshake, lips wrapped around the straw-

woah not there mark! he holds his thoughts back from straying into that direction as he finishes his remaining food.

he sheepishly tells you about the whipped cream around the corner of your lips, handing you a tissue — he wants to wipe it off with his thumb, well he really wants to kiss it but he's not that bold. although sometimes he wishes he was.

but then maybe you two wouldn't have gotten this close to begin with — so he'll be himself, the mark you know, hoping one day he works up the courage to earn the right to shower you with all the affection and love in the world.

he smugly grins when you try to pay at the counter and then come to know he's already paid in advance.

“mark.”

“you can pay next time.”

“that's what you always say!”

“hm do i?” he makes a show of thinking long and hard, rubbing his chin and all as he gets a coffee for william — as he'd insisted mark get him something from the recently opened cafe in the area.

the conversation and shared laughter dies down as you two make your way out, it's time to leave and part ways, mark has been dreading this the second he got here.

don't leave me.

his chest tightens with unspoken words and affection when you bid him goodbye, with a hug. he doesn't want to pull away — arms lingering around for awhile even when you start pulling away.

don't go. please.

even though the words remain unspoken — his eyes speak volumes, even the feelings he's too scared to utter out loud.

and as the wind blows, rustling your hair — you look back at him one last time with that damn smile, he hopes the next time you two are together, it ends with you not leaving but instead in his arms, where you belong.

or well at least where he thinks you belong — he's getting ahead of himself again isn't he?

he smiles back although it doesn't quite reach his eyes, watching you walk away until you're out of his sight.

and now he's left there alone. he ends up taking a sip from the coffee to distract himself but it's bitter — almost bitter like the thought of never having you, never having you as his.

he sighs, god he's hopeless. better get back to william’s before his coffee gets all cold.

“you look like someone just drained the life out of you,” william teases him as mark hands him the coffee that's still somewhat warm, “don't tell me a vampire attacked you,” he jokes but mark’s mind is somewhere else — you.

he already misses you.

“quit moping around and spill the tea already,” william groans playfully, feigning annoyance as he sips on his coffee.

“i’m such an idiot.”

“tell me something new mark.”

“not helping.”

william scoots his chair closer to mark on the bed, “did you mess up?”

“no, i don't think so.”

“the why do you look like a sad kicked puppy?”

“i’ll never have-”

“oh my god not this again,” william sighs loudly, “we've been through this likea gazillion times mark.”

“what kind of foreplay is cherry eating?”

william almost spits out his coffee. “i beg your finest fucking pardon?”

and as mark rambles about you, reliving the memories of you sure makes him shy and giddy — he tells his best friend, “she asked if i wanted her cherry, and-”

“oh you do, real bad,” william snickers knowingly in a suggestive tone which makes mark pause and raise a brow.

“oh my god you are so dense, and you missed the perfect opportunity to flirt,” william rubs his temples like an overworked stressed parent.

“how did you know i want-”

oh.

that kind of cherry.

“william!” mark is quick to throw a pillow at his friend — embarrassed and cheeks starting to heat up, a blush creeping up his neck.

“oof,” william lets out a surprised noise, “hey you're not denying it,” he teases — earning another smack with a pillow from the half viltrumite.

“shut up.”

“you're still not denying the idea, real subtle there.”

“i hate you.”

#ㅤㅤ✶ㅤ digitald0rk's library !#yearner mark strikes again #i've had three strawberry milkshakes in the past fourty eight hours #invincible #invincible x reader #invincible x you #mark grayson #invincible fanfic #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson x you #invincible fluff

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cumironi · 2 months ago

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I’VE GOT YOU, BABY jjk men

feat. gojo geto nanami toji sukuna shiu higuruma

sum. they thought it would be a normal night. playful bickering, eat dinner together, maybe makeout session while you two are giggling like a lovesick fool. but heart cancer? stage 3? yeah, not on their bingo cards.

warning. non-sorcerer jjk men! 23 you & 31 them, established relationships, heart cancer, death mentioned, bit angst to comfort, fluff, and not very heart warming.

GOJO SATORU

he was supposed to be in meeting.

supposed to be.

but instead he was dramatically sprawled on the couch in your apartment, shirt half-buttoned, socks mismatched, one leg hanging off the edge like he was modeling for an early 2000s teen magazine. blue eyes flicked up from your coffee table, where your textbooks were open and your laptop screen glowed with your thesis draft. he had the attention span of a goldfish, and you were used to it by now. what you weren’t used to was the man pausing mid-ramble about how coffee shops should have loyalty programs that give hugs instead of free drinks, the moment you slid the envelope across the table toward him.

“what’s this? did you finally write me a love letter?” he grinned, picking it up and waving it. “wait—let me guess, you’ve confessed your undying love for my devastatingly good looks and impeccable fashion sense. i knew the mismatched socks would win you over.”

you smirked, resting your chin in your hand. “close,” you said. “just my medical results. fun lil update from my body.”

he blinked. the paper unfolded in his hands, and for once, he was quiet. his eyes moved faster than usual. you could feel the shift in the air. from playful to something dense. cold. heavy.

he read the words again.

“stage 3, heart cancer… twenty-four percent chance to live…”

“i know, right? guess my cells just got bored of behaving,” you laughed. it was too loud. too sudden. too wrong. “could be 24% chance or survival. maybe 50%. depending on how charming i am in the oncology department.”

you force a shaky laugh. “guess i must’ve loved you too much. my heart couldn’t take it.”

for a beat, there’s nothing. nothing.

it’s a joke. a bad one. a last-ditch attempt to soften the punch. your eyes betray you anyway — tears sparkle at the corners like broken glass, and the tremble in your fingers doesn’t go unnoticed.

“shut up,” he whispered. not in his usual joking way. his voice cracked at the edge, like he’d bitten into something sour and was trying not to spit it out.

you shrugged, crossing your legs like you were just talking about the weather. “i’m still hot though, right? at least if i kick the bucket, i’m going down with great cheekbones.”

“no. nope. return to sender. i don’t accept this bullshit,” he murmurs, voice cracking through the sarcasm. “you don’t get to pull the tragic heroine card on me. that’s my thing.”

you try to laugh. “so dramatic…”

“i’m the drama. not you. you’re the soft, pretty, sunshine type who cries during dog movies and hogs the bed. you’re not allowed to die. i won’t allow it. i’ll— i’ll—”

“you’ll what, kiss it better?” you tease.

“why the fuck would you joke about this?” his voice rose. panic behind the volume. the paper in his hand crumpled a little.

“because if i don’t, i’ll start crying,” you replied, softer now. looking at him with tired eyes. “and i really, really don’t wanna cry in front of you. you’d never let me live it down.”

“you idiot,” he breathed out, standing up so fast the coffee table shook. his hands were trembling. he paced once. twice. then suddenly dropped to his knees in front of you like gravity had yanked him down.

“you’re not going to die,” he said. like a promise. like a threat to the universe. “i’ll fight death himself. with my sunglasses. and sarcasm. and maybe a bazooka.”

you blinked. “you don’t know that.”

he grabbed your hands, clutching them so tightly you could feel how cold his were. “you think you can drop something like this on me and then just—laugh about it? you think that’s fair? i love you, you dumbass.”

you looked down at him. this ridiculous, beautiful man kneeling like you’d just proposed marriage instead of dropped a medical bombshell.

you sniff, smile crookedly. “i love you too.”

he grins, forehead pressed to yours. “good. you’ll fit right in with the chaos i’ve got planned for your recovery. step one: we replace your heart with mine. step two: we break into a hospital and demand glitter IVs. step three: we live. got it? we’re gonna fight this. i don’t care if i have to bribe, blackmail, or bend space-time — you’re staying with me. you’re not allowed to leave.”

you choke out a laugh against his shoulder. “that’s a pretty bold threat to make to the universe.”

“you think i won’t square up with the universe?” he pulls back, eyes shining with something wild and terrified and real. “i’ll fight fate with one hand and spoon-feed you pudding with the other.”

you look at him, tears falling freely now, and he smiles — a little broken, a little soft.

“besides,” he adds, voice trembling as he kisses the corner of your mouth, “you still owe me like, twenty dates. and my hoodies back.”

he stared at you.

you smiled. a little cracked. a little crooked. “worth it.”

“i swear to god,” he growled, burying his face in your lap. “if you die, i’m haunting your ghost just to yell at you.”

you ran your fingers through his hair. soft. familiar. he was shaking. he didn’t want you to see. “you’re not going to die,” he whispered again, like if he repeated it enough times, it would rewrite your diagnosis.

“but if i do,” you said gently, voice steady for both of you, “please keep wearing mismatched socks for me. preferably ugly ones. the uglier, the better.”

he lifted his head and kissed your knuckles. then your palm. then your wrist. like he could map your pulse, hold onto it, anchor it. i’m gonna annoy every doctor on this planet if that’s what it takes,” he muttered. “i’m gonna sit in every waiting room and argue with every nurse and—”

“you’re already annoying,” you smiled, brushing tears off his cheek. “just keep being you, toru. okay?”

he choked out a laugh. a real one. raw and messy and breaking. “yeah,” he said, pulling you into his arms. “okay. but just so you know—if you think i’m gonna let you go without a fight, you’re really underestimating how stubborn i am.”

and you believed him.

because it was satoru gojo.

and he was chaos and comfort and love in human form.

GETO SUGURU

you didn’t expect him to come over tonight.

he had been buried in work lately—endless stacks of logistics and community events and trying to solve the world’s problems like he didn’t already carry the weight of it on his shoulders. so when he texted you “omw. bring that pouty face I like,” you assumed he was just being his usual flirty self. nothing serious.

you didn’t expect to be sitting on your bedroom floor in an oversized hoodie with a manila envelope on your lap, legs tucked beneath you, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you heard the familiar knock-knock-knock. two beats, then one. his rhythm.

he walked in with a drink carrier balanced in one hand and a bouquet of flowers that looked like they were arranged by a man who walked into the shop and said “whatever she’ll like, just make it look expensive.” his eyes lit up the second they saw you, and he gave you that half-lidded smile that made it look like he knew every secret about you.

“what’s with the envelope, babe?” he asked as he kicked his shoes off and slid beside you on the floor. “you trying to sue me for being too good-looking? because guilty as charged.”

you snorted. “nah, i’d win that case against gojo way faster.”

“mm, true.” he nudged your knee with his. “what is it then?”

you clear your throat and drop the letter dramatically on the floor next to him like it’s a bomb. “got a broken heart. me. officially. medically. romantically tragic.”

geto raises a brow, gaze drifting from the letter to you. “did i forget an anniversary again? that sounds serious.”

giving him a lazy smile. “worse. i’m in a love triangle with death and a statistics chart.”

you handed it over. said nothing after.

he cocked an eyebrow but took it. slid the letter out like he was opening one of your essays. started reading.

his smile dropped.

his breath caught.

and for once—suguru geto didn’t say anything.

he finished the page. eyes moving over the last line again. and again. his fingers curled around the edge of the letter so tightly it crinkled.

you felt like vomiting.

“stage 3, heart cancer,” you said lightly. like it was the weather. like you’d just found out the vending machine was out of your favorite chips. “only twenty-five percent chance of making it. which is still, like, a quarter! that’s one out of four. i’ve played worse odds at those arcade claw machines. like flipping a coin with feelings.”

“don’t—” his voice was hoarse. “don’t joke about this.”

“why not?” you forced a grin. “i thought you liked my dark humor.”

he turned to you so fast, your smile faltered.

“i do,” he said, barely a whisper. “but not when it’s hiding how scared you are.”

and that was the worst part. the way he saw through you. you looked away. bit your tongue. tried to force another joke but your throat closed up and it never made it out. “you should be crying,” he said softly. “you should be screaming. you should be throwing things or cursing god or making me carry you everywhere like a princess.”

“yeah well,” you mumbled. “you’ve always liked me better when i’m quiet.”

“don’t say that.” his hand cupped your cheek, turning your face toward him. “don’t ever say that.”

you blinked. his thumb wiped away something you didn’t realize had fallen.

“baby—”

“i’m going to be here for all of it,” he said firmly. his voice steady, even if his hands trembled. “chemo. surgeries. crying fits. mood swings. i’ll buy you every stupid snack craving you have, i’ll hold your hair back if you puke, i’ll even let satoru come over if you’re bored enough to tolerate him.”

“wow,” you said, voice thick. “must really love me if you’re willing to suffer through that.”

he laughed, but it cracked halfway through. he leaned in and kissed your forehead. your nose. your cheeks. slow. deliberate. like he was memorizing your face before the world dared to change it.

“you’re the love of my life,” he murmured against your skin. “and i don’t care what percentage the doctors give. you’re not leaving me.”

you tried to joke again. to keep it light. but when he pulled you into his arms and held you like you were made of glass and might disappear if he didn’t hold tight enough—

you broke.

and he just let you.

silent. steady. his hand rubbing circles into your back. his voice a whisper. “i’ve got you, baby. every step. every breath. we’re fighting this. together.”

NANAMI KENTO

he was never one for surprises.

nanami lived his life in clean lines and structured time—an adult in every sense of the word. the kind of man who folded his clothes before bed, who ironed your uniforms when you were too tired, who always had a clock running in his head. you were chaos in comparison. soft blankets thrown over chairs, tea mugs with lipstick smudges left by your bedside, textbooks covered in doodles. yet somehow, you and him had always fit together like an odd, unlikely pair.

tonight, he showed up exactly at 7:00 p.m.

punctual, like always.

“i brought you dinner,” he said, holding up two paper bags. “i made sure it’s from that place you like with the spicy tofu you claim doesn’t make you cry but always does.”

you smiled, opening the door wider for him. “ah, you remembered. see? you do love me.”

he gave you a flat look, setting the bags on your kitchen counter. “i tell you every day. if you need evidence beyond that, i can start writing it down in your planner.”

“ooh, planner declarations of love? sounds sexy.”

he gave a soft, almost-smile. you could tell he’d had a long day. the way he rolled his sleeves up, undid the top two buttons of his shirt, and sighed like he was finally somewhere safe. you wanted so badly to keep it peaceful. to let him enjoy one evening without—

but the envelope sat on the kitchen table. taunting you.

“ken,” you said softly, “before we eat… can you read something?”

his brow furrowed. “is this another one of your thesis drafts? i told you i am not proofreading any more literary analyses about how tragic men are secretly hot—”

“it’s not,” you said, quieter this time.

he walked over. saw the envelope. took it wordlessly.

you watched him read. nanami read carefully—line by line. never skimmed. never rushed. so it took longer. you could hear the second his breath changed. shallow. barely audible. then it stopped altogether.

he didn’t speak. didn’t ask questions. he simply folded the letter back up and set it down with precision. like it was something sacred. dangerous.

“why didn’t you call me when you got this?” he asked, voice low. serious. his control was razor sharp, but you could hear the grief pressing against his throat.

“i… didn’t want you to leave work in the middle of a meeting,” you muttered. “and i didn’t wanna cry about it either. figured i’d tell you in person. like a grown-up.”

“stage 3, heart cancer is not something you break like a casual news update,” he snapped—then immediately closed his eyes, sighing. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to raise my voice.”

“it’s okay,” you said, wrapping your arms around yourself. “i figured you’d be mad.”

“i’m not mad,” he said, walking around the table toward you. “i’m terrified.”

“it’s still there,” you whispered. “it’s just… fuzzy now. like a dream i can’t quite remember when i wake up.”

you looked up at him. that composed, unshakable man. and for the first time in a long time, nanami looked lost. “you’re young,” he said, almost to himself. “you’re in college. you have plans. you talk about the future like it’s something guaranteed.”

“you really mean that?” your voice cracked.

his jaw clenched. he pulled you into his chest, his hands pressing against your back, like he could physically hold you together. you could feel how hard he was trying not to fall apart. “then i’ll remember it for you,” he said quietly. “your future. your dreams. if you forget them… i’ll carry them until you can take them back.”

“of course,” he said, resting his chin on your head. “you’re the love of my life. i didn’t choose you for convenience. i chose you because i wanted every part of your life—good and bad. if this is what we’re facing now… then we face it. together.”

you buried your face in his chest, inhaling that familiar scent of bergamot and black tea. the comfort of his heartbeat. the way he was always so steady, even when the world wasn’t.

“but just so we’re clear,” he said, pulling back slightly to look at you, “you’re not going to die. not anytime soon. not before i make you my wife.”

you blinked. “wait—what?”

“i’m not proposing,” he said flatly. “not while you’re crying. but you should know… that’s where this was always headed.”

your tears doubled. “ken—”

“shh,” he kissed your temple. “we’ll talk about it after dinner. and after you stop pretending tofu doesn’t make you sob like a child.”

you laughed. you couldn’t help it.

and for the first time since getting the diagnosis, you let yourself feel safe.

TOJI FUSHIGURO

toji was already lounging on your couch when you got home.

shirt half unbuttoned, legs spread like he owned the place—which, okay, he kind of did at this point, considering how often he crashed here. one arm slung over the back of the couch, the other nursing a can of beer he probably picked up on the way over. he didn’t look up when you walked in, just tilted his head slightly and smirked like he could smell the anxiety radiating off you.

“you look like shit,” he said casually, eyes still on the muted TV.

“thanks, baby,” you replied, dropping your bag by the door. “your romantic side is really showing today.”

“you want romance, go read a damn poem.” he finally looked at you. eyes narrowing. “you okay?”

you shrugged and walked into the kitchen, not answering. you knew that tone in his voice. low. suspicious. the kind he only used when he felt something off and didn’t like it one bit.

you took your time. poured a glass of water. leaned against the counter. stared at the envelope in your hand like it might explode if you set it down.

“toji,” you called.

“hm?”

“can you come here?”

he groaned dramatically but stood, beer in hand, and sauntered into the kitchen. he leaned against the counter across from you, expression unreadable. he scanned your face like he was piecing something together.

you handed him the envelope without a word.

he took it. read it.

you watched every flicker of emotion pass through his face. confusion. stillness. a furrowed brow. the tightening of his jaw. and then—rage. not loud. not messy. quiet. slow-burning. the kind that sat in his chest like a bomb with no timer.

he didn’t say anything at first.

just set the envelope down and looked at you. dead in the eye.

“how long have you known?”

“just a few days.”

“and you didn’t tell me?” his voice was low. flat.

you sighed. “i didn’t want to see your face like this.”

“like what?”

“like the world ended.”

he stepped closer. his voice dropped even lower.

“you think i give a fuck about the world?” he said slowly. “i care about you. you think you can just carry this shit alone and joke your way through it? you think that’s cute?”

“i didn’t want you to panic,” you murmured, avoiding his gaze. “i didn’t want to cry. or make it real. if i said it out loud—”

“then i’ll say it for you,” he interrupted. “you have heart cancer. stage 3. twenty-four percent odds. and guess what?”

you finally looked at him.

“we’re beating the shit outta those odds.”

you blinked. “what?”

he crossed the distance between you and pulled you into him. his grip wasn’t gentle—it was grounding. like he needed to feel your heartbeat against his chest to believe you were still here.

“you’re not dying on me,” he said, voice rough. “you hear me? i’ve lost enough people. you’re not going to be one of them. i’ll chain you to the damn bed if i have to. feed you. fight the doctors. i don’t care.”

“toji—”

“nah, shut up. you’re not allowed to talk until you admit i’m right and that i’m hotter than your oncologist.”

you choked out a laugh. “okay. you’re right. you’re hotter than any man with a medical license.”

“damn straight,” he muttered, lips brushing your forehead. “we’re getting through this. and i don’t care if you lose your hair or your strength or your mind a little bit along the way. you’ll still be mine. all of you.”

you didn’t say anything. didn’t need to. you just stood there with his arms around you, the only place that felt like home when everything else felt like hell.

he kissed the side of your head and sighed. “fuck. now i gotta start acting like a responsible adult.”

“guess you better start taking your vitamins, old man.”

“if i die before you, i’m haunting your ass. every time you try to pee, i’ll slam a cabinet door.”

you burst out laughing. crying. something in between. he held you tighter.

“that’s better,” he muttered. “cry in my arms like a normal person, not in the shower like a movie heroine.”

and just like that, you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

RYOMEN SUKUNA

you found him in the bedroom, stretched across your bed like a damn king—which, technically, he insisted he was. shirtless, as usual. arms behind his head, eyes closed, expression too calm for a man with a bloodstained past and a mouth as foul as his reputation. the room smelled faintly like sandalwood and your shampoo, which he secretly used but would never admit to.

you stood in the doorway with the envelope clenched in your hand.

“oi, sukuna.”

his eyes cracked open, one brow lazily lifting. “what, brat? come to beg for kisses or annoy me until i carry you to class again?”

you forced a grin, walking in slowly. “tempting, but no. i’ve got something for you.”

“better be food or something perverted.”

you sat beside him, the envelope now shaking a little in your fingers. you hated how that tremor betrayed you. sukuna didn’t miss it. his eyes shifted to your hand, narrowing.

“what the hell is that?”

“diagnosis,” you said simply, tossing it onto his chest.

he caught it midair, scoffing. “what, did they finally diagnose you with being insufferable?”

“close. heart cancer. stage three. they gave me a twenty-four percent chance of living.” you tried to say it lightly. like it was a weather report. “cloudy with a chance of death, haha.”

sukuna didn’t laugh.

his eyes scanned the page. slower than usual. and his silence—it wasn’t dramatic, it was dangerous. the air felt like it thickened. you could almost hear his jaw clench.

“tch,” he scoffed. “twenty-four percent? what a bunch of weaklings. you don’t need their odds. you’ve got me.”

you blinked at him. “...you?”

“yeah. i’m keeping you alive. i’m not letting you leave me over some pathetic little tumor.”

you tried to keep the smile on your face, tried to keep the mood light like you always did. “damn. here i was thinking i’d finally get some peace and quiet.”

he sat up then—so suddenly the bed shifted with the force. his hand gripped your chin, tilting your face toward him, his expression unreadable but his eyes blazing.

“don’t you dare joke about dying,” he growled. “not to me. not when you know what it would do to me.“

you tried to look away, but his fingers held you still. “sukuna…”

“do you know what i’ve done to people who’ve left me?” he whispered, and for once his voice wasn’t teasing—it was trembling.

“terrible things,” you murmured. “you’ve told me.”

“and yet, you’re the only one i’ve ever let touch me without blood on your hands,” he hissed. “the only one i’d share my bed with. laugh with. let sleep on my chest like some damn lovesick fool.”

you bit your lip. your bravado cracked. “...i’m scared.”

and that was all it took for him to pull you into his lap, arms winding around you with the kind of desperation he rarely ever let surface.

“good,” he muttered into your shoulder. “you should be. but not because of death. because if you think i’ll let you go through this alone, you clearly don’t know who the hell you’re dating.”

you buried your face into his neck, breathing in his warmth, his scent, the familiar thrum of something ancient and furious living in his chest.

“you’ll lose your hair?” he murmured. “i don’t care. you’ll puke every day? i’ll hold the damn bucket. cry at three a.m.? i’ll cuss out the moon for looking at you wrong.”

you choked out a laugh. “the moon, huh?”

“fucking moon thinks it’s allowed to shine on you while you’re in pain? not on my watch.”

he leaned back slightly, cupping your cheek now with uncharacteristic softness. “you don’t need to act strong for me, you little brat. cry. scream. sleep for days. whatever you need. i’ll be here.”

“...even when i look like a zombie?”

“you already look half-dead when you wake up. won’t be much of a change.”

you smacked his chest. he grinned.

and then he pressed his forehead against yours, a rare show of intimacy, his voice dropping so low you barely caught it:

“you’re mine. and i don’t give a fuck if it takes all my strength, my fury, my everything. you will survive this. not because the doctors said so. but because i won’t let you die.”

and for once, even with your heart breaking and your future uncertain, you believed him.

because when a monster like sukuna swore something, the universe listened.

SHIU KONG

the sun was already setting by the time you made it to his office.

you found him exactly how you expected: sleeves rolled up, shirt slightly wrinkled, tie loosened like he’d been too busy all day to care about appearances. he was hunched over his desk, fingers typing something sharp, probably threatening someone with policy violations and scary legal jargon. a half-empty glass of whiskey sat beside his monitor, untouched for hours. the room smelled like cologne and stress.

you stood in the doorway, clutching the envelope.

“shiu.”

his eyes didn’t lift right away—just one flick of them toward you, annoyed, until he saw your face. that was all it took.

he straightened. “what happened?”

“nothing,” you said too quickly. “or, i mean... something. yeah. i brought you something.”

you walked in, trying to act normal. like this wasn’t going to detonate his whole night. you placed the envelope on top of a stack of case files like it was a stupid postcard or a coupon for pizza.

he picked it up, his frown deepening with every line he read.

“you’re joking,” he said flatly.

“i wish.”

he looked at you. hard. no emotion at first—just that sharp, calculating gaze that made grown men fold. but you knew him too well. you saw the cracks right away: his fingers tightening around the paper. the twitch in his jaw. the breath he held too long before letting it out.

“stage three?” he said. “twenty-four percent survival?”

you leaned against the wall, arms crossed, trying to keep it light.

“well, if i was a stock, you probably wouldn't invest in me, huh?”

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” he snapped.

you blinked.

“jesus, shiu, calm down—”

“no. i’m not calming down. you walk into my office with this,” he shook the letter, “and joke about it? you think this is funny? you think i can just read this and go back to work?”

you stayed quiet.

he stood up, pacing now. one hand dragging through his hair, the other still holding the paper like it was covered in blood. his voice dropped low. rough.

“why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“i didn’t want to ruin your week.”

he turned slowly. "you think any of this matters if you’re not in it?"

that one hit harder than you expected. your throat tightened.

he sighed harshly and stepped toward you, eyes dark, voice steadier now but no less intense. “look at me.”

you did.

he cupped your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks like he was trying to memorize every inch.

"you don’t get to carry this alone,” he said. “not with me around. not for a second."

you bit your lip. “i didn’t want you to treat me like i was dying.”

“i’m not treating you like you’re dying. i’m treating you like you’re mine. and you are. and i don’t care how brutal this fight gets, how many appointments we sit through, how sick you get, how tired—i’m staying.”

you exhaled shakily, and his hands slid down to your waist, pulling you against him like he could keep the sickness away just by holding you tighter.

“you’re not allowed to go before me,” he murmured into your hair. “i’m the old one here, remember?”

you smiled weakly. “so what, you’re giving me permission to outlive you?”

“i’m giving you orders. and you always listen to your boss.”

“you’re not my boss, shiu.”

“wanna bet?”

you leaned your head against his chest, finally letting your tears soak into his shirt. his arms stayed locked around you like a shield.

“i’m scared,” you whispered.

he kissed your temple, voice rough and sure.

“then be scared. just don’t be alone.”

HIGURUMA HIROMI

he always stayed up too late when he was working. piles of case files, half-drunk cups of green tea gone cold, classical music humming low in the background like it could drown out the weight of the world. the desk lamp lit his tired eyes in soft gold, his brows furrowed in that focused way you knew meant he hadn’t even noticed the time—or eaten.

you hovered at the doorway for a second, gripping the envelope. stage 3. 24%. ugly numbers typed in a clinical font that suddenly felt louder than the damn music.

“hiromi.”

he glanced up, his features instantly softening the second he saw you. “you’re still up. what’s wrong?”

you tried to smirk. “well. i’m about to ruin your night. so buckle in, counselor.”

he frowned and pushed his chair back, straightening. “what happened?”

you crossed the room, placed the envelope down in front of him like you were handing in an assignment. “that’s my diagnosis.”

he didn’t move for a few seconds. just stared at it. like touching it would confirm the dread blooming in his chest. but he opened it, scanned the words, and then—

his shoulders stiffened. just slightly. like a man being sentenced.

“heart cancer,” he murmured, voice almost too calm. “stage three. twenty-four percent survival rate.”

“yeah,” you said with a dry chuckle. “bit dramatic, right? could’ve given me a 30% for optimism.”

his eyes snapped up to yours, unreadable.

“you’re making jokes?”

“if i don’t, i’ll cry. and i figured one of us should hold it together.”

his jaw tensed, and he stood slowly, walking around the desk with a kind of methodical grace that always made your heart skip. he stopped in front of you, one hand resting on your cheek like he was scared you’d vanish.

“you’ve known… how long?”

“got the results a few days ago.”

“and you didn’t tell me?”

you looked down. “i didn’t want to be the reason you stopped working. you’ve got enough to deal with. i didn’t want to be another case file on your desk.”

he flinched like you slapped him.

“you’re not a case file,” he said firmly. “you’re not just another name. you’re—” his voice broke, just a little. “you’re everything.”

you couldn’t hold it anymore. your voice cracked. “i’m scared.”

his arms were around you instantly, firm and grounding. his hand cupped the back of your head, pressing you into his chest like you belonged there and only there.

“then be scared,” he whispered into your hair. “and i’ll be scared with you. but don’t think for a second i’ll let you go through this alone.”

you held onto his blazer, gripping the fabric like it could anchor you. “i don’t want you to see me fall apart.”

“i’ve seen people fall apart,” he said. “i know what that looks like. this isn’t that. this is you being brave. this is you still showing up, still standing, even when you're hurting.”

you pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes glassy. “what if i die?”

his hand slid to your cheek, thumb brushing a tear away. “then i’ll have spent every last day making sure you knew you were loved. and if you live—and you will, because you’re stronger than any verdict—they’ll write books about how you told death to wait.”

you laughed through the tears. “that’s a little dramatic, even for a lawyer.”

he smiled, just barely. “i learned from the best.”

and then he kissed you—soft, reverent, like a man clinging to hope.

“we’ll fight this,” he whispered. “and i’ll be with you every step of the way. suits and all.”

i made this after re-watch now is good and just can’t help myself. i know, i know it was basic, classic drama, the girl is sick, has cancer, everyone wrote about it, i know. but i enjoy writing this so much, i may or may not make a mini series about them, do you guys will enjoy it if i make this longer? please let me know! 🫣

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satoblue · 3 months ago

Text

your heart sinks with every nauseating tick of the clock, signaling the hours that pass until dinner.

satoru promised he’d be here on time no matter what and so you waited, yet you find yourself alone at the table, unable to stomach your food. with a heavy sigh, you store everything inside containers to put in the fridge, making sure to cover his plate in saran wrap for when he returned so he could heat it up, ignoring that dark voice in the back of your head that told you it wasn’t necessary because he might not be coming back to you at all.

shaking away the negative thoughts, you head to bed, only to toss and turn in your sheets for what feels like an eternity because oddly enough, it doesn’t feel the same. they’re colder than usual, unlike the home you’re used to, and perhaps that was because you normally could not sleep without him. but combined with the anxiousness and worry, it was practically impossible at this point, and somehow the warmth around you fades increasingly every moment he’s not here with you.

frustrated and fearful tears prick at your eyes, and you clutch his pillow close to your chest, inhaling the lingering scent of your husband and hoping it never fades. could this be it? would this finally be the day he doesn’t return back safely into your arms? the day you’ve dreaded ever since he made you part of his world?

in the deafening and unnatural silence, you think your ears play a trick on you when they pick up on a distant clattering down the hall from your bedroom. your eyes shoot open, breath hitching — and the beating organ in your chest stops for a second. perhaps it was the cat? or perhaps it was a trick from how loudly your heart thunders in your ears and chest. it does absolutely nothing to stop you as you slowly pad your way back into the dimly lit kitchen for the final time that night, seeking the hopeful confirmation that will breathe stability back into your lungs.

……..it was him. it was really him. he was back.

but he was hurt.

though you felt in that moment it was the least of your current concerns so you’d acknowledge that later. he seemed fine in the grand scheme of things. right now however, you felt more relief than anything — and maybe a little bit of anger. not at him though, never at him, not truly.

you felt frozen in place, watching as he rummages through the refrigerator. rubbing your eyes and blinking away the fatigue and tears, you try ensuring what you were seeing was reality and not just a figment of your imagination, your words stuck in your throat. in an attempt to stay strong, inevitably, your voice wobbles.

“you’re late.”

and satoru, that idiot, whips his head to face you with wide eyes, straightening up at the sight of you before flashing a sheepish grin in response despite the numerous cuts littering his pretty face, rubbing the back of his neck in the way that he does when he’s at a loss for words. and maybe he is, maybe because he almost just died, and yet instead of coming to greet you and tell you that he’s safe (for the most part) — instead he decides to ravage the fridge, one scarred arm stuck in the cool rectangle like a child caught sneaking cookies from the jar.

“i know. i’m always late.” he breathes through an infuriating huff of laughter, as if everything was okay. “i told you i’d be home for dinner — and technically it’s not midnight just yet……so i still made it on time, right?”

he always has to have the last word.

#having thoughts about satoru not coming home because last you heard from him he was going to fight sukuna #tw the end of my fucking world #<- tag for his death #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #satoru x you #jjk satoru #gojo x y/n #gojo headcanons #jjk drabbles

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i2rizz · 2 months ago

Text

Pet names the bllk boys would call you

Isagi, bachira, rin, nagi, reo, sae, shidou, kaiser, ness, barou

|masterlist

Isagi Yoichi - "Babe"

You always thought Isagi was the classic type. The kind of boyfriend who, despite being an absolute menace on the field, was sweet and soft behind closed doors. And you were right.

"Hey, babe, can you pass me the water?"

You blinked.

It wasn't the first time he called you something affectionate, but it was the first time he said it so casually. You grabbed the water bottle from the counter, tossing it to him. "Since when do you call me that?"

He caught the bottle, smiling sheepishly. "Dunno. Just felt natural. You like it?"

A smirk tugged at your lips. "Say it again."

"Babe," he repeated, softer this time.

Yeah. You definitely liked it.

Bachira Meguru - "Lovebug"

With Bachira, you were never safe from nicknames. From "sugar plum" to "honey bunch," he'd called you everything under the sun. But today, he'd decided on something new.

"My lovebug, come here!" Bachira sang, arms wide open.

You stared at him, unamused. "Lovebug? Really?"

"Yeah! You’re cute and tiny, and you always stick to me like one. So, lovebug!"

Before you could argue, he tackled you onto the couch, nuzzling into your neck with an exaggerated hum. "You like it, don’t you?"

You sighed dramatically. "Fine. But if you start calling me 'buggy,' I'm leaving."

"No promises!"

Itoshi Rin - "Angel"

Rin wasn’t the type to throw around sweet names. You were lucky if he even said "good morning" without a grunt. But lately, he’d been slipping up.

"Angel, where’s my hoodie?" he muttered from the bedroom.

You nearly dropped your phone. "Huh?"

Rin peeked out from the doorway, frowning. "What?"

"What did you just call me?"

He went stiff. The realization dawned on his face, his ears turning red. "I— Shut up. Just give me my hoodie."

You grinned, walking over and tugging on the hem of his shirt. "Say it again."

"Not happening."

You leaned in, whispering, "Angel."

His hand shot up, covering your mouth. "Drop it." But the blush on his face told you everything you needed to know.

Nagi Seishiro - "Bunny"

"Bunny, c'mere."

You stopped mid-step, staring at Nagi. "Did you just call me ‘bunny’?"

He blinked lazily, patting the empty space beside him on the bed. "Yeah. You’re soft and sleepy like one. Now, cuddle."

You huffed but crawled into his arms anyway. "You’re just using cute names to distract me, aren't you?"

He yawned, draping an arm over you. "Maybe. But also ‘cause I like you."

Your heart did a little flip. "I hate you."

"Mm. Love you too, bunny."

Mikage Reo - "Princess"

Reo had been calling you "princess" since the moment you got together. At first, you thought it was just a playful joke. But no, he was dead serious.

"Princess, let me carry that for you."

"Princess, you shouldn't walk in those heels so much."

"Princess, did you eat today?"

Finally, you snapped. "Reo, do you even know my actual name anymore?"

He laughed, pulling you close by the waist. "Of course, I do. But you’re my princess first."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't stop the smile forming on your lips. "Ridiculous."

"Adorable," he corrected, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Itoshi Sae - "Doll"

Sae never wasted words. He wasn’t one for grand gestures or unnecessary sweetness. But when he did something, he meant it.

"Doll, are you listening?"

You blinked out of your daze, focusing back on him. "Did you just call me 'doll'?"

Sae sighed, setting his fork down. "Yeah. You got a problem with that?"

"No, but it’s very… unexpected."

He smirked. "Thought it suited you. You’re pretty. Fragile."

"I am not fragile."

"Mm." He reached over, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "You’re still my doll."

Your face burned. Damn him and his effortless charm.

Shidou Ryusei - "Kitten"

"Kitten, you’re killing me."

You groaned as Shidou draped himself over your shoulders, arms locking around you like a vice. "Get off me, you idiot."

"Not until you admit you love it when I call you that."

You squirmed, trying to shake him off, but his grip only tightened. "Shidou—"

"Say it. You love it."

You exhaled sharply. "Fine. Whatever. Just get off."

Shidou grinned, finally letting go. "Knew it. You’re so cute, kitten."

You threw a pillow at his face. "Shut up."

Michael Kaiser - "Schatz"

Kaiser loved teasing you in German. It made you flustered, and he lived for it.

"Schatz," he purred, leaning over your shoulder.

You frowned. "That better not mean something dumb."

He laughed. "Relax. It means ‘treasure.’"

You eyed him suspiciously. "For real?"

"For real. You’re my most precious thing, after all."

Your heart clenched. You punched his arm lightly. "Stop being cute."

"Never, schatz."

Alexis Ness - "Darling"

Ness was a hopeless romantic. It was no surprise when he started calling you "darling" in that soft, affectionate tone.

"Darling, don’t forget your scarf."

You paused, blinking up at him. "Since when do you call me that?"

Ness smiled, adjusting the scarf around your neck. "Since I realized I want to call you mine in every way possible."

Your breath hitched. He was unfair.

Barou Shoei - "Queen"

Barou wasn’t one for unnecessary nicknames. But when he did call you something, it held weight.

"You’re my queen. Act like it."

You smirked. "Oh? And what does that make you?"

He crossed his arms, staring down at you. "The king, obviously."

You chuckled. "So dramatic."

"You love it."

You did.

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zeroxxlhero · 3 months ago

Text

Chase • Caitlyn Kiramman

Warnings: 18+ characters, gp! Caitlyn, blowjobs, sub! top! Caitlyn, dom! bottom! Reader, cowgirl, begging, edging, praising, vaginal sex, friends w benefits, unprotected sex

Pairings: Caitlyn Kiramman x You

Fandom: Arcane (League of Legends)

Caitlyn Kiramman had a reputation. Not one she tried to build—if anything, it followed her without her permission. She had always been good with words, with subtle touches, with the right look at the right time. It wasn’t intentional, not really, but somehow, she made people feel special without even trying.

And women? They adored her.

They leaned in when she spoke, laughed just a little too loudly at her jokes, brushed their fingers against hers with the hope that maybe, just maybe, she’d mean it this time. And she played along, because why wouldn’t she? It was easy. A quiet compliment here, a lingering glance there—effortless.

But it never lasted.

Because no matter how many girls swooned for her, Caitlyn Kiramman only ever had eyes for you.

And you? You knew it. You thrived in it.

You never let her win, never gave her the easy satisfaction of watching you melt under her charm like all the others did. Instead, you teased, you taunted, you danced just close enough to let her think she had you—only to slip away at the last second, leaving her high and dry like some poor sucker who fell for her own game.

And gods, did it drive her mad.

Tonight was no different.

The Kiramman estate was bathed in quiet, the halls dark and still, her parents fast asleep in their separate wings. Caitlyn had slipped you in like she always did, guiding you past locked doors and expensive paintings, the sound of your quiet footsteps swallowed by the wealth surrounding you.

Now, you sat on the edge of her bed, relaxed, unbothered, watching as she stood before you with that unreadable expression, arms crossed over her chest.

“You enjoy this, don’t you?” she muttered, her voice low, edged with something both frustrated and amused.

You smirked. “What? Making Piltover’s golden girl work for it?” You leaned back on your hands, tilting your head. “I’d be stupid not to.”

Caitlyn exhaled through her nose, shaking her head, but there was something else in her eyes—something dark, something hooked. You had her, and you knew it.

“I don’t work for anyone,” she said smoothly, stepping closer, slow and deliberate.

You hummed, unimpressed. “Mm. Could’ve fooled me.”

She let out a quiet laugh, low in her throat, standing between your legs now, her hands pressing into the mattress on either side of you. “You act like I don’t know what you’re doing.”

You raised a brow. “And what’s that?”

Caitlyn leaned in, her breath warm against your cheek, her voice a whisper. “Dragging me along. Testing me. Making me chase.”

Your lips curled. “You’re the one who keeps following.”

Her eyes flickered, searching yours for something—weakness, maybe. A crack in the wall you built between you. But there was none.

“You like it,” she murmured, like she was realizing it in real-time.

You reached up, fingers barely grazing her collar, the promise of touch there but never fully delivered. “I like watching you squirm.”

And oh, she was squirming. Not outwardly—no, Caitlyn Kiramman was too composed for that. But you saw the way her throat bobbed, the way her fingers curled just slightly into the sheets.

She wanted you to give in. She needed you to.

But you wouldn’t.

Not yet.

Instead, you leaned up just enough to let your lips ghost over her ear, your breath a taunt, a challenge.

“You can do better than that, Kiramman.”

And then—just like that—you pulled away.

Caitlyn let out a slow breath, tilting her head down, her eyes flickering with something dangerous. “You’re insufferable.”

You grinned, relaxed, like you hadn’t just left her standing there like an idiot, wanting more. “And yet,” you mused, stretching out on her bed with a smug little sigh, “you keep sneaking me into your room past your parents.”

Caitlyn let out a long, exhausted sigh, shaking her head as she plopped down beside you on the edge of the bed. Her shoulder brushed against yours, but she didn’t move away. Instead, she tilted her head back, staring up at the ceiling as if gathering patience from the air itself.

“Are you ever going to give me a real chance?” she asked, her voice low, quiet. Not pleading—Caitlyn Kiramman never pleaded—but there was something raw underneath, something just a little tired, a little frustrated.

You hummed, pretending to ponder, tapping a finger against your chin. “Hmm. I don’t know. You are handsome, I’ll give you that.” You turned your head, meeting her gaze with a teasing smirk. “But I don’t think I’d appreciate having an unfaithful partner.”

Caitlyn scoffed, sitting up straighter. “Unfaithful?” Her brow arched, lips parting slightly in disbelief. “That’s not fair.”

You laughed, amused at her sudden offense, shifting your body until you were straddling her lap. She tensed beneath you, but her hands instinctively rested against your hips, like they belonged there. Your fingers slid up, one settling gently against her chest while the other tangled into her dark blue hair, twisting strands between your fingers.

Her breath hitched.

You leaned in, just enough to feel the warmth of her skin, your voice a soft murmur against her ear. “You entertain too many women, Kiramman.”

Caitlyn’s hands tightened on your waist, her grip firm but careful. Her voice was quieter now, almost pleading—though she’d never admit it. “They don’t matter,” she insisted, her blue eyes searching yours, burning with something desperate, something real. “Not like you do.”

You tilted your head, considering her, your fingers curling slightly against her chest. She was trying so hard to convince you, to prove herself—but she hadn’t realized yet.

This was your game.

You smirked, running your thumb lightly along her jaw. “Oh? And what makes me so different?”

Caitlyn exhaled sharply, her hands sliding up your back, her grip steady, sure. “Because you’re the only one who never gives in.” She swallowed, her voice almost breathless. “And I’d stop—all of it—if you just gave me a chance.”

For once, she wasn’t trying to be smooth. Wasn’t trying to be charming.

She meant it.

And gods, wasn’t that dangerous?

“You really mean that?”

“Yes.”

You sit in Caitlyn's lap, your arms wrapped around her neck. Your heart races with desire as you stare into her eyes, seeing the same hunger reflected back at you. Without hesitation, you lean in, pressing your lips against hers in a fierce, passionate kiss.

Your lips move frantically against hers, demanding and insistent. You part her lips with your tongue, exploring the warmth of her mouth. Caitlyn responds eagerly, her own tongue dancing with yours as her hands grip your hips tightly.

You pour all of your pentup desire into the kiss, your body pressing closer to hers. Your hands tangle in her hair, pulling her deeper into the kiss. You nip at her bottom lip, soothing the sting with your tongue before diving back in for more.

Caitlyn's hands roam over your body, squeezing and caressing. She pulls you flush against her, her chest heaving with each breath. The kiss is wild and untamed, a clash of teeth and tongues as you both struggle to get closer.

Caitlyn's hands roam over your body, caressing your curves through your clothes. She squeezes your breasts, her thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. You gasp into the kiss, your hips grinding down against hers.

As you move, you feel a slight bulge pressing against your core. You grind harder, a moan escaping your lips as you feel Caitlyn's hardness growing. Caitlyn's hands grip your hips, pulling you down onto her as she thrusts up to meet you.

You break the kiss, your lips trailing down Caitlyn's neck. You suck and bite at her skin, marking her as yours. Caitlyn tilts her head back, giving you better access. Her hands slide under your shirt, her fingers digging into your skin.

"Fuck," Caitlyn groans, her hips bucking up against you. "Wanna make you feel good."

You continue to grind against her, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You can feel your own arousal growing, your panties dampening with each thrust.

You push Caitlyn onto her back, adjusting yourself to fully straddle her hips. You grind down against her, feeling her hardness grow beneath you. You lean down, your lips brushing against her ear.

"Do you want to have me?" you whisper, your voice husky with desire. "Do you want to fuck me, Caitlyn?"

Caitlyn's hands grip your hips, her fingers digging into your skin. She thrusts up against you, her breath coming in short gasps. "Yes," she hisses. "Fuck, yes. I want you so badly."

You sit up, reaching for the hem of your shirt. You pull it off, tossing it aside. Caitlyn's eyes rake over your bare chest, her gaze dark with lust. You lean back down, your lips finding hers in a searing kiss.

You kiss your way down Caitlyn's neck and collarbone, your lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Caitlyn's head falls back, her eyes fluttering closed as she savors your touch.

You sit up, breaking the kiss. With a smirk, you climb off her lap and kneel between her spread legs. You look up at her, your eyes locking with hers as you press a kiss to the bulge in her pants.

Caitlyn's hips jerk at the contact, a low groan escaping her lips. You can feel her hardness throbbing against your mouth, even through the fabric. You kiss her dick again, this time lingering longer, your tongue tracing the outline.

"Fuck," Caitlyn whispers, her hands fisting in the sheets. "Don't tease me."

You ignore her plea, continuing to kiss and lick her through her pants. You want to drive her wild, to make her beg for more.

You continue to tease Caitlyn, pressing light kisses along the length of her dick through her pants. You rub your hand gently over the bulge, feeling it twitch and harden further under your touch.

"You have no idea how good I'm going to suck you off," you murmur, your breath hot against her crotch.

Caitlyn's hips buck up, seeking more friction. "Please," she begs, her voice strained. "I need your mouth on me."

You smirk, blowing a stream of air over her dick. "Patience, baby" you whisper. "You know I’m not going anywhere."

You continue to tease her, kissing and rubbing, but never giving her the relief she craves. You want her desperate, begging for your touch. Only then will you give her what she wants.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of teasing, you decide Caitlyn has had enough. You unbutton her pants, slowly pulling down the zipper. Caitlyn lifts her hips, allowing you to pull her pants and underwear off in one swift motion.

Her dick springs free, hard and throbbing. You take a moment to admire it, running your hand along the dick. Caitlyn's hips twitch, a bead of precum forming at the tip.

"You're so big," you whisper, wrapping your hand around her base.

Caitlyn bites her lip, her eyes dark with desire. "It's all for you," she says, her voice strained. "Only for you."

You lean in, pressing a kiss to the tip of her dick. You swirl your tongue around the head, tasting the precum that beads at the tip. Caitlyn's hips jerk, a low moan escaping her lips.

You began slowly, teasingly, running your tongue along the underside of her shaft. Caitlyn's hips jerked forward involuntarily, a soft moan escaping her lips. Encouraged, you wrapped your lips around the head of her dick, sucking gently as your tongue swirled around the sensitive tip.

"Fuck," Caitlyn gasped, her fingers tightening in your hair. "That feels... fuck, that feels amazing." She threw her head back, her chest heaving with each ragged breath.

You take Caitlyn deeper, your lips stretching around her dick. You relax your throat, allowing her to slide in until she hits the back. You hold her there for a moment, swallowing around her length.

Caitlyn's hips jerk, a loud moan escaping her lips. "Shit," she pants.

You start to bob your head, sucking her in and out of your mouth. Your hand works in tandem with your lips, stroking what you can't fit. The sounds of your slurping and Caitlyn's moans fill the room.

You can taste her precum, salty and musky. It only fuels your desire to please her.

You suck Caitlyn's dick with hunger, your lips and tongue worshipping every inch of her. You kiss and lick the head, swirling your tongue around it before taking her deep into your throat again.

You continued to give attention to Caitlyn's dick, your mouth and tongue working in perfect harmony to bring her the utmost pleasure. You sucked and licked, your head bobbing up and down as you took her with each pass.

After several minutes of this blissful torment, you pulled your mouth off, leaving Caitlyn's dick slick with your saliva. Without hesitation, you wrapped your hand around her dick, stroking her slowly as you turned your attention to her balls.

You cupped them gently, massaging the sensitive orbs with your fingertips. You leaned in, pressing soft kisses to the soft skin of her scrotum before taking one of her balls into your mouth, sucking gently.

"Oh god," Caitlyn moaned, her hips lifting off the bed as you sucked on her balls. "That's... that—."

You continued to worship her balls, switching between gentle sucking and massaging with your tongue. All the while, your hand never stopped stroking her dick, twisting and pumping in a steady rhythm.

Caitlyn's breathing grew heavier, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her dick throbbed in your hand, the veins pulsing beneath your fingertips. You could tell she was getting close, her body tensing with each passing second.

"Baby," she gasped, her voice strained. "I'm gonna... I'm gonna cum."

You took Caitlyn's dick back into your mouth, sucking her off with renewed vigor. As you did, you decided to be bold and look up at her, meeting her gaze.

The effect was immediate. Caitlyn's eyes widened, her pupils dilating with lust as she stared down at you. Her dick throbbed against your tongue, and you could taste the first drops of her precum.

"Fuck, baby," she groaned, her hips bucking forward. "Gonna drive me crazy." She gripped your hair tighter, holding your head in place as she began to thrust into your mouth.

You held her gaze, sucking and slurping noisily as you pleasured her. The sight of you, your lips stretched around her dick and your eyes locked on hers, was clearly pushing Caitlyn to the brink.

You pulled your mouth off Caitlyn's dick once more, jerking her off with fast, tight strokes. Within seconds, she was coming undone, a low groan escaping her lips as she spilled over your hand. Her dick pulsed and throbbed, coating your fingers with her hot, sticky cum.

But you weren't done with her yet. As soon as her orgasm subsided, you dove back in, taking her dick into your mouth once more. This time, you were merciless, sucking and slurping like a woman possessed.

"Holy—" Caitlyn moaned out, her back arching off the bed. "Baby, what... what are you doing to me?" Her voice was a highpitched keen, her hips bucking wildly as you worked her dick with your mouth.

You sucked her like you wanted to devour her whole, your tongue and lips attacking her sensitive flesh with a fervor that bordered on madness. Caitlyn's hands flew to your head, gripping your hair tightly as she rode out the waves of pleasure crashing over her.

You continued to give Caitlyn the blowjob of her life, sucking and slurping with a ferocity that left her breathless. One of her hands clenched the sheets, gripping the fabric tightly as if it were a lifeline. The other hand gripped your hair, holding your head in place as you worked your magic.

Caitlyn was helpless against the onslaught of pleasure, unable to do anything but sit there and take it. Her mind raced, thoughts and images flashing through her head in a chaotic jumble. She could feel her toes curling, her body tensing as the pleasure built to an unbearable crescendo.

Guttural moans spilled from her lips, her voice raw and hoarse. "Yes," Caitlyn hisses, her hips thrusting up to meet your mouth. "Just like that."

Caitlyn's body tenses, her dick pulsing in your mouth. She's on the verge of coming again, her breath coming in short gasps. But just as she's about to climax, you pull away.

"No," she cries out, her hips jerking up. "Don't stop."

You ignore her protests, climbing up her body. You capture her lips in a searing kiss, pressing your naked body against hers. You can feel her dick throbbing against your stomach, coated in your saliva.

"I want you inside me," you whisper against her lips. "I want you."

Caitlyn groans, her hands gripping your hips tightly. "You're killing me," she pants.

Just as Caitlyn was on the verge of coming undone, you pulled your mouth off her dick. Before she could protest, you moved to sit on top of her, straddling her hips.

You ground down on her hard dick, your wet pussy sliding along her dick. Caitlyn groaned, her fingers pressing into your skin tighter as you moved against her. You leaned down, capturing her lips in a greedy, passionate kiss.

Your tongues danced, exploring each other's mouths as you continued to grind on her dick. Caitlyn's hips lifted to meet yours, the two of you moving in perfect sync. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent and desperate with each passing second.

You leaned back up, reaching between your legs to grasp Caitlyn's dick. You lined it up with your entrance, looking into her eyes as you slowly sank down onto her.

When you finally bottomed out, your ass meeting her pelvis, you let out a long, low moan.

You leaned down, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. As you pulled back, you began to move, riding her dick with slow, deliberate strokes. You took your time, savoring the feeling of her inside of you, the way she filled you so completely.

You started off slow, riding Caitlyn with gentle, deliberate motions. You needed a moment to adjust to her size, to get used to the feeling of her dick stretching you open. As you moved, you could feel every ridge and vein, every inch of her hardness sliding against your inner walls.

Gradually, you found your rhythm, your hips rolling and gyrating as you picked up the pace. When you were comfortable, you leaned back, placing your hands on Caitlyn's knees for support. From this position, you could take her deeper, your pussy swallowing her dick whole with each downward thrust.

Caitlyn groaned, her head thrown back against the pillow.

You rode Caitlyn harder and faster, your hips slamming down onto hers with each thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your hissed moans and Caitlyn's groans of pleasure.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you chanted, your voice breathless and strained. You could feel Caitlyn's dick hitting deep with each downward motion, sending jolts of electricity through your body.

Your pussy clenched around her, the walls fluttering and pulsing as you chased your orgasm. Sweat beaded on your forehead and chest, your body glistening in the dim light of the bedroom. You were lost in the moment, consumed by the pleasure coursing through your veins.

"You feel so good," Caitlyn panted, her hands gripping your hips tightly. She looked up at you, her eyes dark with desire.

You could see the admiration and lust in her gaze, could hear it in her voice. Her words spurred you on, making you ride her even harder. You wanted to please her, to make her feel as good as she was making you feel.

"So beautiful," Caitlyn murmured, reaching up to cup your breasts. She squeezed gently, her thumbs brushing over your nipples.

Caitlyn bit her lip, her eyes locked on you as you rode her. She was silent, save for the occasional moan or gasp, but her gaze spoke volumes. It was filled with admiration, with awe at the sight of you taking your pleasure from her.

You were breathtaking, your body moving with a grace and confidence that was utterly captivating. Caitlyn couldn't look away, couldn't tear her eyes from the way your hips rolled, the way your breasts bounced with each thrust.

She reached up, trailing her fingers along your sides, over your hips, and down to where you were joined. She touched you reverently, marveling at the sight of her dick disappearing inside of you.

"I'm gonna cum," you whispered, your voice strained with pleasure. You rode Caitlyn harder, faster, chasing your orgasm with desperate abandon.

Caitlyn could only lie there and take it, her body trembling beneath yours. She bit into her lower lip, her eyes squeezed shut as she felt her own climax approaching. Your words, your movements, the feel of your pussy gripping her dick it was all too much.

"Fuck," she gasped, her hips lifting to meet yours. "Me too. I'm so close." Her hands gripped your hips tightly, her fingers digging into your flesh as she held on for dear life.

Your breathing grew ragged, your voice barely above a whisper as you approached the edge. "I'm... I'm cumming," you gasped, your hips grinding harshly against Caitlyn's.

With a final cry, you came, your pussy clamping down on Caitlyn's dick like a vice. Your body shuddered and convulsed, waves of pleasure crashing over you.

Caitlyn let out a guttural moan, her head thrown back as she followed you over the edge. She came hard, her dick pulsing and throbbing as it spilled inside of you. Her hips jerked and bucked, prolonging your shared orgasm.

You collapsed onto her chest, both of you breathing heavily as you rode out the aftershocks. Caitlyn wrapped her arms around you, holding you close as she peppered your face with soft kisses.

Caitlyn grinned up at you, her eyes sparkling with mischief and affection. "So," she said, tracing lazy patterns on your back with her fingertips. "When's our first date?"

You lifted your head, looking down at her with a raised eyebrow. "Whenever you want it to be," you replied, a smirk playing at the corners of your mouth. "You're the one with all the Kiramman money, after all."

Caitlyn laughed, the sound warm and rich. "Fair point," she conceded. "How about tomorrow night? I know a great little restaurant. And afterwards, we could catch a movie... or something else entirely." She winked, her grin turning suggestive.

You chuckled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Caitlyn's lips. "Sounds perfect," you murmured against her mouth. "I can't wait."

Caitlyn's arms tightened around you, holding you close. "Me neither," she whispered, her breath warm against your skin. "It's going to be a night to remember."

You stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other's arms, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking. Eventually, Caitlyn's stomach growled loudly, making you both laugh.

"How about I order us some food?" Caitlyn suggested, reaching for her phone. "I'm thinking pizza. Lots and lots of pizza."

You nodded, your stomach rumbling in agreement. "Sounds amazing," you said, snuggling closer to her. "But first, I think we need a shower. Together."

Caitlyn's grin widened, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "I like the way you think," she said, giving you a quick kiss before climbing out of bed and pulling you with her. "Race you to the bathroom!"

#arcane #arcane league of legends x reader #reader insert #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn arcane #caitlyn kiramman x reader #caitlyn kiramman x you #arcane league of legends #arcane smut #caitlyn kiramman smut

1K notes · View notes

jungwnies · 9 days ago

Text

f1 grid | comfort after a bad race, except its you.

୨ৎ : featuring : all drivers on the grid & driver!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon) : comforting you after coming off a rough race weekend.

୨ৎ : genre : fluff ୨ৎ : word count : 1844

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ 10k event | masterlist ୨ৎ

ʚ・red bull

max verstappen

it’s not in max’s nature to be soft, but the second he sees you sitting on the pit wall, still in your race suit and staring out at the empty track, he knows not to joke. no teasing, no smug remarks—just him dropping down beside you in silence. he offers his water bottle, nudges his knee against yours.

“you don’t have to say anything,” he mumbles. “just sit with me, yeah?”

you do, and when you finally speak, he listens—really listens. and when you break, voice cracking mid-sentence, he places his hand over yours and whispers, “bad race doesn’t mean you’re a bad driver. you know that, right?”

yuki tsunoda

yuki finds you in the cooldown room post-race, curled into the corner of the couch with your head in your hands. he doesn’t say anything right away, just sits beside you and lets out a long sigh. “that was shit,” he says bluntly. “but you’re still better than half those idiots out there.”

when you laugh weakly, he lights up. “there’s my rival,” he grins, bumping your shoulder. then softer, “i know how hard you worked. they’ll see it next time. i promise.”

he even lets you steal his favorite onigiri snack as a peace offering.

ʚ・mercedes

george russell

george finds you in the back of the garage, helmet still on, shoulders stiff and unmoving. he doesn’t say anything at first—just crouches in front of you and taps gently at your gloves.

“i know it’s shit,” he says quietly, eyes searching yours through the visor. “but one race doesn’t erase who you are.”

when you finally pull your helmet off, blinking fast to hide the tears, he just pulls you into a hug and lets you bury your face in his shoulder.

“you’re not alone in this. i’ve been there. tomorrow we reset, yeah?”

kimi antonelli

he’s awkward at first, unsure how to approach you. but the moment he sees your clenched jaw and how you refuse to meet anyone’s eyes, something clicks.

“you don’t have to pretend with me,” he mutters, handing you a cold water bottle and sitting beside you on the pit wall.

he doesn’t talk much—just lets the silence wrap around the both of you while your breathing evens out.

later, he surprises you with a quiet “you’re still the person i look up to. one bad race doesn’t change that.” and it nearly breaks you.

ʚ・ferrari

charles leclerc

he finds you in your driver room, pacing, still in your suit, muttering under your breath about everything that went wrong.

“mon amour,” he says gently, stepping inside, “you don’t have to carry this alone.”

you break down the second he pulls you into his arms, hiding your face in his chest while he rocks you slightly, murmuring, “it’s not your fault. i saw you fighting out there. you gave everything.”

later, he makes you sit down and eat something, even if it’s just a few bites. he knows the weight of a red suit and how it can feel like the whole world is watching—so he makes sure you remember it’s okay to stumble.

lewis hamilton

lewis sees the storm behind your eyes the second you step out of the car. he knows that look—it’s familiar. he’s worn it too many times himself.

“come here,” he says softly, pulling you aside into a quieter corner of the paddock.

“you are so much more than one result,” he reminds you, thumb brushing a tear off your cheek before it falls. “don’t let today rewrite your story.”

later that night, he sends you a playlist he made years ago for moments like this. it’s full of soft strength and quiet hope, just like him.

ʚ・mclaren

lando norris

he sees the frustration on your face before you even say a word, and his heart sinks right along with yours.

“hey,” he whispers, catching your wrist gently before you can storm off to your room. “don’t go spiraling. not today.”

sits with you on the floor of your room, helmets and gloves tossed to the side, just the two of you in quiet.

“you drove your heart out. i know it doesn’t feel like it mattered, but it did. you matter. we’re allowed to have shit days.”

pulls you into his side, kisses the top of your head, and adds, “but tomorrow? we try again. and i’ll be right here.”

oscar piastri

he doesn’t say much at first—he lets you vent, listening with those quiet eyes and soft nods that tell you he’s really hearing it all.

once you stop, chest heaving with the weight of it all, he speaks: “you’re allowed to be upset. but i need you to remember this doesn’t define you.”

he’s calm, grounding, the steady energy you didn’t know you needed.

later, he hands you a water bottle and sits beside you on the floor of the garage, legs stretched out, shoulders touching. “bad days happen. but you’re still one of the best out there. never forget that.”

ʚ・aston martin

fernando alonso

he watches you from across the paddock, eyes narrowed, reading you like a strategy sheet.

“you are angry with yourself,” he says quietly when you pass him, and you just sigh. “good. that means you still care.”

he doesn’t sugarcoat it. he respects you too much for that.

but later, he finds you alone in the motorhome and sits beside you. “you learn the most when the race hurts. and you—you're already better than half of them out there on your worst day.”

he doesn’t offer a hug, but he does leave you with a smirk and a softened, “come. let’s debrief over coffee. my treat.”

lance stroll

you’re curled up on the floor of your room, suit half-off, still sweaty and furious, when he knocks gently and peeks his head in.

“i brought snacks,” he says with a tiny smile, holding up your favorite post-race comfort food.

he doesn’t push. he just sits near you, eating in silence until you start talking, even if it’s just mumbled complaints.

“look,” he says eventually, nudging your knee, “you’re not allowed to quit, okay? not when you’ve worked this hard. not when i believe in you this much.”

gives you the softest, warmest hug when you finally let yourself cry into his chest.

ʚ・williams

alex albon

he finds you slumped in the garage, helmet still on, and just wraps his arms around you from behind. no words, just warmth.

“don’t talk yet,” he whispers into your shoulder. “just breathe.”

once you’ve calmed, he gently pulls off your helmet and tucks a few stray strands of hair behind your ear.

“you don’t have to be strong with me,” he says, eyes soft. “i know you gave it everything. and that’s enough for me.”

drags you out of the paddock and insists on bubble tea and cartoons in the hotel to cheer you up.

carlos sainz

paces around like he’s the one who DNF’d—frustrated, muttering in spanish, raking a hand through his hair.

the moment he sees you, all his tension melts into concern. “mi amor… come here.”

holds your face so gently, as if you might shatter. “you were brilliant. the car wasn’t. that’s not on you.”

kisses your forehead and murmurs sweet nothings in spanish while you lay on his chest in the motorhome.

promises to personally have words with whoever screwed up your strategy.

ʚ・haas

ollie bearman

he’s awkward at first, doesn’t quite know what to say when he sees you with glassy eyes and your suit half unzipped in defeat.

“hey… um. that sucked. really sucked.” then hugs you a bit too tightly.

rests his chin on top of your head. “but you’re still the coolest person in this whole paddock to me.”

pulls you away to the haas sim rig and makes you crash the car on purpose just to make you laugh.

“we’re gonna fix this. next race, you’ll be untouchable. i’ll make sure of it.”

esteban ocon

immediately knows something’s wrong just from your body language. pulls you aside the second he gets the chance.

his voice is calm, low, and soothing. “you’re allowed to be upset. but you’re not allowed to think you’re anything less than brilliant.”

sits beside you in the back of the hospitality unit, quietly holding your hand and rubbing your knuckles with his thumb.

brings you a bottle of water, wipes your face gently, and whispers, “you don’t need to put on a brave face with me.”

tells you about every race he failed to finish, just so you know you’re not alone in it.

ʚ・racing bulls

liam lawson

sees you storm off toward the garage and immediately follows, no cameras, no questions.

doesn’t ask what happened — just wraps his arm around your waist and murmurs, “talk to me when you’re ready.”

when you finally break down in the motorhome, he brushes your hair out of your face and pulls you into his chest.

“you’re allowed to be upset. but don’t forget you’re the fiercest driver i know.”

kisses the top of your head. “and if anyone says otherwise, they can deal with me.”

isack hadjar

tries to joke at first — “at least your helmet still looks good?”

but when he sees you’re genuinely crushed, his expression drops immediately.

sits beside you on the floor, backs against the wall, knees touching.

“hey, you’re allowed to cry. i know i would’ve punched someone by now if it were me.”

quietly adds, “you don’t have to prove anything to anyone. you’re already enough. more than enough.”

ʚ・alpine

pierre gasly

finds you pacing behind the paddock, biting back tears, helmet still on.

gently unclips your helmet, brushing a hand down your cheek as he takes it off.

“i know that look. i’ve worn it too many times.” his voice is soft, steady.

pulls you into a quiet room away from everyone and sits you down.

“you gave it everything. the result doesn’t erase the effort. or your talent. or how fucking proud i am of you.”

franco colapinto

catches the tail end of your radio message — the frustration, the cracked voice.

waits for you just outside parc fermé with open arms, doesn’t care who sees.

“you did your best. the car didn’t. that’s not on you.”

rubs your back as you lean into him, forehead pressed to his shoulder.

whispers in spanish, “sos increíble. y nada de esto cambia eso.” (you’re incredible. and none of this changes that.)

ʚ・kick sauber

nico hulkenberg

you storm off after the cooldown lap, helmet still on, teeth gritted. he doesn’t say a word — just walks beside you.

waits until you're seated in the garage corner before crouching next to you.

“want to break something? or sit in silence? your call.”

hands you a water bottle and his usual sarcasm fades: “you’ve had worse, i’ve had worse. we come back. we always do.”

adds, quieter, “you’re too damn good to let one shit race define anything.”

gabriel bortoleto

finds you hiding in your driver room, curled up with a towel over your head.

knocks once, then slides in anyway. “i brought snacks.”

doesn’t push you to talk — just sits beside you, legs touching, playing some silly tiktok sound on his phone to try to make you laugh.

“i’m still proud of you. even if today sucked. especially because today sucked.”

when you finally lift your head, he grins and says, “next time? we show them who you really are.”

931 notes · View notes

madamechrissy · 4 months ago

Text

Would you come with me?

Pairings: Satoru Gojo x F! reader

Summary: You have been Satoru's best friend for such a long time, and one day he asks you a really big favor- marry him. What!?!? Well, Satoru has to take a wife as he's running the Gojo corporation, and what better way to get them off his back than 'marry'? In name only, just best friends living together for a year to calm them down, sounds so perfect and uncomplicated, right!!! Well, living with Satoru Gojo makes you both question everything, is this fake marriage feeling... real? and can you just be friends after this?

CW: NSFT-MDNI- So much mutual pining and longing, not sharing feelings. This chap- kissing, fingering, masturbation, lots of jealousyy, they're idiots in love lol, teasing, TENSION, oral (f recieving) Satoru is a lil sweetie and a lil freaky ass- falls hard, ya'll both down bad. Three parts- WC this Part- 7.6k

Songs for this - Birds of a Feather // Nonsense // Suffocate

Ty for all the love on part one!?!? I hope you all enjoy this part as well! We got one more after this <3 Comments and reblogs so appreciated always!

<<<Part One - Masterlist - Final Part>>>

Part Two

One month of being ‘fake married’ to Satoru Gojo, your best friend.

“I’m nervous about this meeting, Satoru. Are you sure I’ll do alright?” You ask softly, as you both head to the elevator, a meeting that you know Satoru has been dreading himself, with the higher ups his dad usually deals with.

“You’ll do just fine, let me do the talking, you can just look all pretty.” He takes your hand as you all get into the elevator, squeezing it warmly, and you’re dying at how good that hand feels, and how good he feels, his strong arm brushing against you as you both watch the elevator doors shut.

“I don’t want to embarrass you.”

“You could never. You’ve been a perfect wife this month, I promise.” His sweet grin, just a little crooked melts you, as you exhale in relief. “I’m getting a lot done with this, I swear… I know you probably wanna get back to normal life.”

The hurt in his words immediately makes you pull back, and Satoru curses himself, taking your hand again, as you two ride up the floors, but you pull away, shaking your head. “Are you so eager for me to go?” Your voice is quiet, trying not to reveal what that makes you feel like fully.

“What!? No, not at all. I meant… if you wanted to.” Satoru’s heart breaks when he sees your dewy eyes. “I didn’t mean it that way, I meant it may not take a year, if you wanted to…”

“I’m glad it’s helping, really.” You give him a small little smile, and Satoru can barely concentrate on what he’s here for, when he wants to wrap you in his arms, to kiss you fully, not just pecks for appearances.

And god those kisses to prove you’re together make the lines blur, makes everything so confusing and jumbled for him. He’s having so much trouble remembering that it’s for show, when you all watch movies at night still, when you both have dinner together, when you’re washing dishes side by side. When you’re having coffee on his balcony in the morning.

The one thing that keeps it ‘fake’ is the separate rooms, but the amount of times Satoru has played with himself in the room next to yours has gotten insane, the number of showers he has to take so he hopes you won’t hear him. Lately, he’s backed off just a bit, for his own sanity, so it hurts less when this is over.

“Toru, wanna watch the show tonight?” You ask, wearing one of his big tee shirts, it swamps you completely, tempting him to no end, thinking of slipping it up just so…

Shit.

“Nah, sorry not tonight. I’ve got work to do.” He says, hating the little down turn of your lips.

“How late, I can wait!”

“Um… yeah I wouldn’t wait up.” You blink then, wondering have you gotten too comfortable with him? Have you been acting too much like a wife at home? You can’t help but enjoy him, enjoy your time together, are you overwhelming him with it all?

“Oh. Um, okay. Good night, then.” You smile sadly, aching to kiss him good night, knowing you shouldn’t want it, knowing you shouldn’t be desiring him right next to you, snuggling on that couch. God you’d love him in your bed even, holding you so close against him.

“Good night, sweets.” He murmurs, softly, not wanting you to think that you were the problem, no the problem is him.

He can’t stop picturing how every corner and nook in his huge home will be so very empty when you’re gone.

“You haven’t done anything wrong, not one thing, I swear you’re playing this perfectly. And I really appreciate you, yeah?” He says, but it’s not what you want to hear, because you’re not playing, not really, it’s just too fucking easy.

“Yeah, we got this.” You kiss his cheek softly, the friendly way you used to, as you all walk through the sliding doors where everyone is, all old men aside from a couple younger people scattered in seats in a row.

You tense, so he squeezes your hand, smiling at you, an upturn to pink lips as a room full of old money assesses you both, trying to reassure you. “Mr. and Mrs. Gojo, please have a seat.”

You nervously sit next to Satoru across from them now, your legs crossing as he casually leans back, one arm around the back of your seat, an ankle crossed over his knee, sunglasses right on his face. He’s so at ease, or so it seems, you are certainly learning more and more that Satoru tends to hide much of his anxiety with cracking jokes and sarcasm.

“Ah, the oldies, how goes it?”

“Ahem, oldies?” A blonde man raises a brow, and Satoru scoffs.

“You might as well be, Zenin. Old ass mentality.”

“Satoru, how is your father?” Asks an older man from another high company that works with the Gojos, Mr. Gakuganji.

“Ya really hoping he pulls through hmm? Even if so, he’s already appointed me, so don’t get too excited.” Satoru has an easy grin, fingertips brushing against your bare arm, leaning closer to you. “You’ve all met the wife?”

“Not all of us.” A pretty woman with long blue braids smiles at you. “Heard of her though, hello Mrs. Gojo. Mei Mei. Apparently so old.”

“Hello Mei Mei.” You greet with a small smile, looking at them all. “It’s going to be a pleasure to work with you all, I am sure.”

“Isn’t she just charming?” Mr. Naoya Zenin says, you feel Gojo’s fingers tighten in response.

“She is lovely.” Mei agrees, predatory smiles on both of their lips.

“Enough with the greetings, Gojo, you've made a lot of changes to this company in a quick manner.” Now Yaga, a tall imposing man that owns much of the shares of the company, speaks.

“Sure have, Yaga. Aw, mad you all got pay cuts? Poor things. Don’t worry, gave your extra to the employees.” Gojo says with a big white grin, earning the glares of everyone in the room.

“You’re not some Robin Hood.” An older man of the Kamo family says, raising a brow at Gojo, who chuckles.

“No, sure am not, I’m still rich and so are you all, just a little more evened out, wouldn’t you say, sweetheart?” He looks to you, tilting down his glasses, and you take a breath, putting a hand on his thigh, silently supporting him.

“Employees are going to work harder and stay longer with better pay and better conditions, and cutting just a bit off the top accomplishes that.” You say, voice strong and clear as a bell, making Satoru so proud he can’t stand it, smiling big at you as the room collectively grumbles.

“You’re not the only one with interest in this company. What does your father think of this?” One of the older men asks.

“It’s my company already, it’s about to be official soon. So don’t worry.” Satoru says with ease. “Also, my wife was talking.”

“Your wife is certainly… hmm, very pretty, but a commoner.” Naoya says, earning Gojo standing up, chair screeching back.

“The fuck you say!?”

“Satoru…” You lean forward, touching his arm, looking at his furious stance as the room shifts.

“How is she a commoner? You’d be lucky to lick the ground she fucking walks on ya know that?”

“She’s clearly not a commoner, but… she’s not “rich" is what he means. She has no concept of wealth.” Mei says, and Naoya stands now as well, glaring right over at Satoru.

“She’s rich now, she’s my fucking wife.” The words feel so real from his infuriated voice that you can’t even separate it anymore, if this is some act you will just play right into it, even if it hurts. Him defending you is raw, you feel his fury next to him, trying to calm him and failing.

“It’s fine, baby.” You murmur, and hearing it, this little pet name from you? He immediately looks down, seeing your eyes wide with worry, he sighs now, sitting next to you, exhaling when you brush a hand up and down his back, then you look at the room. “I was not rich, no.”

“Your family was cut off for this sort of behavior. Is that what you want again, want for your children?” Mr. Gakuganji asks, a tired voice breaking through.

“I know better than anyone in this room what it’s like to live on a normal, even low income. Would you not welcome the insight, or are you so above caring about the people who line your pockets?” You demand softly, raising a brow, Satoru watches now as you proceed to wreck them.

He watches you debate them, raising each of them this point and that, and watches them all falter under a pretty little thing like you, usually soft spoken and sweet, but you have no problem decimating a room of them like it’s nothing. You smile so pretty at them all, bat your lashes and they land argument after argument, bouncing off what Gojo says.

Gojo is chuckling after about twenty minutes, as they seem to really think he couldn’t fuck them all if he felt like it. “What you’re forgetting, is I’m the highest up there is here.”

“Your father-”

“My father trusts me to take over. Plain and simple, are there going to be any problems? Millions not enough for you all, need golden toilets for your asses?” You barely hold in the snort of laughter, eyes bright as you watch him continue to disgruntle the room, until they finally let up.

Naoya walks up to you, eyeing you up and down as Satoru is talking to Yaga, who seems to be one of the more laid back of them all, his hands in his pockets, light brown eyes lit up. You tense at his gaze, feeling it like a slimy, disgusting touch, making you almost sick. You’re trembling as his eyes dissect you.

“Conveniently, he gets a bride the moment everyone pushes him.” He says with a nasty smirk, brushing a tendril of your hair back. “Don’t buy it.”

“Well, we’ve been in love forever, I assure you.” You say quietly, he hums to himself, when Mei walks over, and damn this woman just saunters, truly, hands on her curved hips.

“It’s so odd indeed, out of a list of so many eligible ladies. Was it true love, I wonder?” She taps her chin curiously, Satoru sees you then, coming by your side immediately, and arm around your waist.

Is he being a protective best friend or…

More.

Is this all just for show, as he pulls you to his side so possessively, making your pulse race, your body reacting as you look up at his face, and he’s scowling at the both of them. “Everything alright, sweets?”

“Yes, they were wishing us the best, weren’t you both?” You say, earning Naoya’s glare and Mei’s smirk.

“Indeed we were, we’ll see you at the auction I imagine?” Mei says, eyeing Satoru now.

“We’ll be there, of course. But for now, hmm…” He tilts your chin up, kissing you in a room full of people who want to hurt him, and hurt you, a protectiveness he’s always had for you becoming so intense it’s hard for him to function, he’d literally take down anyone and everyone that would dare say one thing to you even.

Your lips are sweet, so sweet, as you lean up and kiss him, wrapping an arm around his waist, and that same electricity sparks, even with all their seedy eyes on the two of you. He pulls back, looking at your lips, as you look into his eyes, already dilated and dark, when he clears his throat, smirking up at the shocked gazes.

“Are we all done here?” He asks, and then proceeds to take you out of that room, you finally catch a breath in the elevator, and Satoru grins at you, cupping your face with his big hands, bending down.

“Holy shit.” You murmur, earning his chuckle.

“You were amazing! How dumb am I telling you - look pretty and let me talk- shit I think it was the opposite?”

“No way…”

“Yes way. That was sexy.” He hums, you’re both giggling a bit, but you’re close, too close, and his thumb is brushing your lower lip, sending desire straight through to your tummy.

“I thought you were mad at me.” You whisper then, earning his smile turning down at the corners, his eyes a little distant and hazy.

“I could never be.”

The elevator doors open, the two of you walk out of the sliding glass doors of the enormous building, and you are trying not to touch the lips he just had, trying not to think of just how good they felt. The driver pulls up and you get into the car, Satoru slides in next to you, far too close, you inhale his cologne, you still taste him on your lips, like torture.

“I’m not mad at you.” He says again, you blink a bit, taking a breath, before looking up at him as the car drives onto the highway, gently moving underneath you both.

“You turned down movies for days. You won’t eat dinner with me. I get you’re busy, I really do, but I enjoy it, spending time. I’m… lonely without you? I know that sounds so silly, I’m sorry. Shit.” You cover your face, hating the pathetic words spilling from your lips. “You’re probably sick of all this time, even as a best friend.”

That’s not it.

God that’s not it.

It’s just when he’s next to you all he can think of is fucking you, or making you cum all over his mouth, his fingers. He can’t stand how good you smell, how good you feel, he melts over your pretty smiles and giggles, he can’t stand how deeply he is starting to feel. The three times you all have kissed for publicity it took everything in him not to drag you home.

How does he just shut it off, the ability to kiss you when he wants? And now you’re lonely, you’re hurting, not even able to look at him when he gently pulls down your hands by your wrists. “Look at me.” He murmurs softly.

You do then, and he sees it, tears swimming. “Sorry I’m too emotional.” You whisper then, embarrassed.

“No, I’m being an ass.”

You let out a little laugh. “No, Satoru just distant, and I didn’t know if I fucked something up, the day in your office?”

“No, no. Please, I swear it’s not that… I’ve been in my head.” He mutters, unable to express it truly.

“I get it, you have a lot going on. I want to be here for you.”

“You are.” He’s brushing your hair back softly, leaning down, resting his head against yours, it’s too intimate then, the words on the tip of your tongue, that you feel more than you should, but you try to swallow them. “You’re amazing, you made them all look so stupid.”

“No…”

“Yes. You surprised me, I never have seen you like that.”

“Sexy, you said hmm.” You tease, but he’s serious then, as your breaths mingle, and he’s leaning even closer, wreaking havoc on your every sense.

“God yes, you’re sexy like that.”

“Satoru… it’s too much.” You whisper, as his hand rests on your thigh, and he feels it, how hot you are, earning his eyes shutting, trying to not let it affect him and failing. “I haven’t… I’m really…”

“Been a while, sweetheart?”

“Oh fuck you.” You don’t move his hand when he slips it up higher, in fact your thighs spread just a bit, his little moan making more wetness start to drool from your aching pussy.

“I take up all your time, you can’t date, why not let me take care of you?” He acts as if he can handle anyone ever touching you, the thought alone makes him feral, want to fucking claim you as his own, to devour you senseless. He tries to be teasing, casual, watching your breath catch, your pupils dilate.

“Wh-what!?” Your lips part, and his desperate blue gaze is so intense it’s hard to look at.

“Let me make you cum, sweetheart, hmm? It’s the least I can do, I’m taking up all of you, I am sure it’s been a bit.” You gulp nervously. “You’re not a…”

“No, no, not a virgin Toru, just I didn’t like it.” You admit softly.

“At all?” He whispers, frowning just a bit, before he feels your inner thigh with his thumb, finding you hot and sticky, making you gasp. “Who sucked that bad?”

“You don’t know him. But I didn’t like getting…”

“Fingered?”

“That, not at all, um the times it happened were uncomfortable. So don’t try, it won't work.” Satoru laughs then softly, shaking his head.

“I’ve never had that problem. And I would never hurt you.” His words are serious then, you gulp nervously.

“I know you wouldn’t. But it’s intimate, and it’s not for show.” Your hand clutches his blazer now, thick material in your palm when he finally touches you over your panties, making you cry out at the contact, his cock throbs in response.

“Let me just take care of you, make you feel s’good, hmm? Don’t think too much about it, just feel.” He presses kisses down the side of your neck, your free hand wraps the back of his neck, brushing over his undercut, the soft hair under your fingers like silk, when he presses his fingers over your clothed clit. “You like that, pretty?”

“Y-yes.” You manage, his lips kiss and then suck at the base of your throat, when his finger slips under your panties, finding you bare, soaked, your cry is louder, when he finds your engorged little clit, feels you slippery against his long fingers.

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” He huffs, free hand slipping up the side of your breast while he rolls his finger in little circles, and your hips jerk, your head falling back. “She’s begging f’me to put one in.”

“You c-can try, but- ah!” Satoru sinks a long finger in you, pressing up, and you’re blinded when he finds your spot so effortlessly, leaning back to look down at your face, as it scrunches up in pleasure. “Ngh!”

“There it is, some loser couldn’t find it hmm? I’ve got you, don’t worry.” He’s pressing up again and again, the spongy spot in your gummy walls, gripping him so fucking tight. You hear it, the lewd sound of your squishing cunt, your eyes rolling back in your skull as he works you. “Let go, trust me.”

“It’s too much I… T-Toru…” You whisper his name, while moaning, your mouth open in this perfect O, it makes him leak precum, sticking to his boxers as your thighs spread for him, as you trust him, your eyes lidded. “More.”

“More?” He repeats, speechless for a moment as you’re leaning forward, your lips just a breath away.

“Please, it’s s’good Toru.” Your little plea destroys the last fighting brain cell he has, he’s slipping one more in you, making you pulse around the thick invasion, curling them up and sinking them inside you, to the knuckle, while you moan against his lips. “F-fuck… oh my god what…”

“That’s it, fuckin’ feel her, grippin’ me.” He’s fucking his fingers into you, wishing they were his cock, and you’re soaking his hand, your cunt drooling when he shoves them in deep, thumb pression on your clit, making you shatter. “There you go, sweetheart, that’s it, s’pretty like this.”

You’re cumming all over your best friend/fake husband’s talented fingers, nearly crying at how good the release feels, pulsing all around him, hands clinging to his jacket, hopelessly wrinkling the material, all while he watches you. Your mind goes blank, pleasure is the only thing you can focus on, as he eases his strokes, and you both are panting in the quiet car.

Satoru eases his fingers out, putting them to his lips and sucking now, moaning when he tastes you, and your mouth drops in shock. “T-Toru…”

“Fuck.” He’s kissing you then, your slick all over his lips as he presses your back against the seat, and your thighs shake, sensitive from cumming so hard, you can barely focus on anything but your throbbing pussy.

“Please.” You whisper again, as he yanks his cock out, right in the back of the car, and you reach down, stroking it, his eyes shut as he whimpers, Satoru Gojo whimpers, over you touching his pretty pink tip, swirling that precum.

“Wanna taste you first.” He huffs, kissing down your throat when the car comes to a halt, yanking at your dress, pressing hungry kisses on your breasts.

“What are we… Toru what’re we d-doing, fuck!” You’re whining out when he’s biting at your nipple over your bra, your hands yank on his hair, hips arching, feeling his length on your inner thigh.

“M’gonna-”

“Mr. Gojo, we’re here.” His driver infuriates him now, Satoru leans up, breaths heavy as he’s leaned over you, looking at your already fucked out eyes.

“We almost… we… y-you…” You are stuttering, suddenly so nervous, so overwhelmed. “Is this just you helping me out? Is it-”

“Mr. Gojo-”

“Ijichi, I’ll fucking kill you.” He mutters angrily, quieting his driver quickly, as he adjusts himself and then you, and you’re sitting up, blushing as he fixes your panties, fingers covered still in your slick. He sucks them again further making your tummy flutter, tighten, your heart pounding out of your chest. “God you taste yummy, the fuck, how does someone taste this good.”

“You tasted me? Twice!?” He smirks now, easing you to sit, tilting up your chin now.

“Not fully.”

“Fully!? Is this what friends do?”

“Well I sure don’t want you doing this with anyone else.” He glares now, jaw locking, making you gasp.

“What now?”

“No one else can do that to you.” His lips gently kiss yours, you taste yourself on them again, but you shove at him now, glaring.

“What do you even mean, no one else? You think you have some freakish claim on me now?”

“I know you came so hard you soaked my fucking backseats, hmm?” He whispers, you roll your eyes now, eagerly getting out of the car.

“You’re insane, Satoru.”

“You clearly like it.” You scoff, body shaking, legs literally wobbly, you try to ignore them as you stride up to the front of Satoru’s fancy doors, and walk in quickly, as he follows you with long strides, calling your name.

“That was fingering as a friend!?”

“No… it was…” He wants to say it then, you’re literally his fucking wife, even if it’s pretend, he can’t think of anything he wants more than you, to be inside you.

“Almost fucked me as a friend? Satoru, I can't do that.”

“I know, I didn’t… I just…” You’re turning away, if you look into those blue eyes too long you won’t be able to breathe, to exist, every inch of your body dying for more. “You loved it.”

You scowl as he smirks. “You’re a conceited little shit, just like when we met! Swear to god.”

“You’re still shaking.” He says, eyes raking over you, you gasp.

“You know what? Fuck you.”

“If you want to, say the word.” He murmurs, leaning against your doorway, and you roll your eyes.

“No way, I’m going to bed early. Good night.” You shut the door right in his face, sliding down it, head in your hands.

What the heck even was that.

Five weeks of being ‘fake married’ to your best friend, Satoru Gojo

Satoru and you were barely talking this entire week, you’re so furious with his cocky, conceited attitude, and the fact that he’s entirely right. Nothing felt that good, no one felt like just his fingers had, how he found you, how he looked at you. Now for the past week every night you’ve done the one thing you said you wouldn’t do.

Touch yourself to the memory.

You’re rolling your fingers on your clit, whining his name in a breathy whisper the morning of the charity auction, covering your mouth with your free hand as you realize that you’ve done it, that you’ve said his name, all while cumming all over your little fingers, which don’t even come close to his, lengthy and thick, the rough pads of his thumbs.

And you could fuck him, you know you could, but you also know what it will mean, there is no friends after that, kissing alone has made things impossible for you both. And Satoru is doing the most amazing things, you’re so proud of him already, and don’t ever want to lose him. But now he’s in your head, making you absolutely insane with want, with need, with desire.

Now you can’t even think of him without picturing his cheeks hollowing as he sucked your wetness off, picturing his head between your thighs, things you shouldn’t, and it’s like he knows. He smirks at you just so, lazy lidded eyes draping down your frame every morning, every night, making sure to constantly have a hand on you in public.

He was making you lose it, and he knew it.

Your stupid little fingers can’t do shit, in fact they frustrate you more, but it’d be a cold day in hell before you ask him for any help. In fact you realize the game he plays when he walks around in his boxers, when he does push ups in the middle of the living room with one arm, like he’s showing off, smirking when he catches you watching him, in your moments of weakness.

It would be so easy to fall into his bed, but to think of ruining your friendship terrified you, to think of the feelings you know would be unleashed like some fucking flood gate was too much. You never have been able to be casual, you’re not even interested in someone without feelings, and you’re slowly realizing that those feelings when you were younger never went away.

They’re just more intense now, living with him, with this unspoken tension in the air, every breath you take you can practically taste him, every time you watch his fingers slipping around the rim of his cup you remember them in you. As you see the clear bulge in his boxers you remember touching him, remember wanting to taste that precum on his tip.

The worst part is he looks so knowingly at you, so sure you’d probably beg for him, you’re sure many, many women do. But despite knowing Satoru to be a bit of a ladies man, you’ve not seen a single one here since you’ve lived here, not seen him go on a single date. You’re not sure if you could handle it, despite acting so very nonchalant about it.

But you have no claim over him, this was just convenience, every bit of the arrangement. Your new car, no more debt, helping Satoru do what he needed to, you all are a perfect team even with the added tension of your pussy constantly throbbing around said best friend. Surely it wasn’t worth ruining, complicating, just to feel that pleasure he brings.

As you’re putting the finishing touches on your makeup, you nervously step out of the room, into Gojo’s spacious foyer, where he’s turned around, a dark blue suit adorning his body like a glove. He hears your heels click on the marble floor below and turns, his lips parting as he studies you.

The red dress hugs every line and curve of your pretty body, the bold shade making your skin pop so pretty, it looks so smooth he aches to caress you, every bit of you. You are biting your lower lip nervously, looking up at him from across the room as you stand there, looking so beautiful his pulse races.

This week has been torture for Satoru, he wants to tell you then, that he feels so much more than he even knows how to convey, that it wasn’t just ‘getting a friend off’ it was such a joke, he can’t even understand how you believe that. He can’t get the sweetness of your pussy off his goddamn mind, he’d do just about anything to taste it again.

He’s even eyed your panties in the hamper. He's so pathetic and desperate for you, but he’s tried to keep some semblance of composure, to act unbothered, so scared to ruin your relationship. He knows how much you sacrificed just coming here, sure he’s helping you, but you uprooted everything, you acted perfect at every function, you stood up for him at every meeting.

You are the perfect wife.

Pretend wife.

Pretend, pretend, pretend.

He keeps repeating it like a mantra in his head, brushing off the moment in the back of the car as maybe you just needed to cum, maybe it was just that for you, but something about how your eyes met his, has him desperately pumping his cock, hearing your soft whimpers at night. He knows you’re touching yourself, he wishes he could see it, watch it, take over.

Instead he’s stuck endlessly jerking it to his best friend/fake wife, ignoring any girl that even texts him because they just aren’t you. They could care less he’s ‘married’ everyone just wants a piece of him, everyone but you. You just are there for him, with him, by his side, you’d have done this for nothing in return. You’re becoming everything to him so fast it’s terrifying.

The magnification of feelings he’s had for you over so many years is overwhelming, being near you, smelling your sweet scent, hearing you hum as you cook with your earbuds in, your nervous habits. How you twirl your hair, how you tilt your head, how you tremble just a bit when he holds you for the cameras, how you sigh sweetly as he kisses you for show.

You can’t fake that, he knows you’re affected too.

But he doesn’t know if it’s what he feels for you.

He’s stammering like a teenager at prom, but prom pales in comparison to seeing you now, how the diamonds glitter off your neck and delicate wrists, how he can picture fucking you with just that on. Your cheeks are decorated with that pretty color as you handle his wordless scrutiny, teeth releasing your lip when he comes closer, he brushes a thumb across the indentations left.

You gasp, eyes shooting up to his, as the electric current of his touch rocks through you. “You always bite it, stop. Gonna hurt it.” He says, voice husky, eyes hungry as he looms over you in the quiet, elegant room.

“Do I always?” You whisper, and he nods, brushing his thumb over it again, as if to soothe it.

“Mmhmm, gonna cut up such pretty lips.” His voice drops another octave as one of your hand grips his wrist, and you ache for him to kiss you, to press you against one of these cream colored walls and pound into you.

Stop that!?

You clear your throat, taking a breath and then plastering on a little smile. “You look handsome tonight, blue is your color.”

“Red is yours, clearly.” He brushes a bit of hair back off your bare shoulders, two fingers gently running down the strap, watching the network of goosebumps spread, your heart is racing at the contact. Your urge to yank him by his skinny black tie and slam his lips to yours tempts you to no end.

“Thank you for this dress, and the jewelry. Stop getting me more.” Your little glare just makes him grin.

“At the auction you can get whatever you want, so you know.”

“No way, it’ll all be overpriced.”

“It’s charity, baby. Hmm, should we practice kissing more?” He asks, and you smack his hand away, glaring as he chuckles.

“We’ve had lots of practice, let’s go.”

You all are arm in arm as the cameras flash so brightly later that night when you both step out of the car, so much so they hurt your head, but you hold onto Gojo’s arm, as he guides you through, grinning and answering every question effortlessly. “Why the shades at night, Mr. Gojo?”

“Your bright ass cameras hurt my pretty baby blues.” He teases with a pout, earning the laughter there.

“And what’s this talk of major changes in the Gojo corporation?” Another reporter asks, Satoru chuckles then.

“Ah, well these old geezers needed some revamping is all. Right, pookie?” He asks you, and you smile up at him, then at the cameras.

“Satoru knows what’s best for the company and his employees, his changes are going to only make everyone more profitable.” Satoru watches you answer their questions left and right, enamored more and more by you.

“Are you trying for a baby, Mrs. Gojo?” Someone asks then, and you heat up at the question, at the image that flashes in your head.

Gojo breeding you.

So vivid you feel like you’re there, him murmuring a ‘let me fill you, sweetheart, have you so full of my babies’ and pumping over you. You almost faint it’s so real, and you have no clue what has come over you. You don’t think like that!? You’ve never done shit like that… you…

“We’re enjoying each other a lot right now, but it’ll happen I’m sure, when we’re ready. We’re a little consumed with each other.” Satoru answers now, breaking through the pounding of your heart in your ears, you look up at him, lips parted, as he completely saves you, you’ve frozen on the spot. “Right sweetheart?”

“Right.” You clear your throat, shaking your head then. “We are very much in love, and enjoying our alone time, but we’d both love a baby.” You say, and you hate how real it is.

He hates how he can picture you now, full mating press, as he fucks one load of cum into your pussy, and then another, watching it all pool out. Fuck he’d watch your tummy get so full of him. The thoughts of getting you pregnant make him feral then, he can hardly stand there as he just stares at you, and you at him.

You don’t get your best friend/fake wife pregnant.

Do you?

The auction continues, fancy and expensive items for filthy rich people, Gojo detests it more than even you do, though you’d never know with how he plays the room. You see Mei and Naoya again, laughing about something in this creepy way that makes you shiver. When Gojo is mingling while you're having a seat, you see a pretty brunette girl talking to him closely.

Why does it make you feel so sick to see him, you don’t know. You’ve watched him date, and he’s watched you, but something about living with him, about this enormous glinting rock on your finger really messes with you. His grin glinting under glittering chandeliers of this enormous auction room, another woman coming up, surely he runs in their circles.

You try not to focus on that, it’s not as if you have given Gojo a hint that you want more, and do you? Do you want to cross that line? If something doesn’t work, it’s not a fight between friends, it’s the end of everything, and isn’t having Gojo with you somewhat better than not at all?

“You look like you hate this, huh doll?” You hear then, looking up to see a dark haired man, grinning down at you, he’s handsome in a rugged way, not pretty like Satoru, but something appealing. A scar on his lip as he chuckles, gesturing around you both. “Bunch of rich assholes, huh?”

“Shh!” You giggle though, looking around, nodding.

“Knew it.”

“So what’re you doing here?” You ask quietly, he grimaces, running a hand through inky locks.

“Got a fuckin job to do, what about you?” You gesture to Satoru then, who’s glaring right at you both.

“I’m married to Gojo.”

“Ah shit, I’m too late.” You blush a bit at the attention, Satoru has a girl who’s far too close, whispering in his ear, her hand on his shoulder, making you sick.

“Hmm.” Is all you manage, looking back up at the man. “What is your name?”

“Toji Zenin. Yeah, I know, the name… but fuck them.”

“You are different.” You murmur softly, tilting your head to the side, he brushes his fingers then across your thigh subtly, your jaw clenches a bit.

“If I was with you I sure wouldn’t be over there with snobby bitches.” He says, and you don’t like it then, the jealousy in your heart as Gojo walks up suddenly, clearing his throat.

“Zenin.” He mutters, and he grins up at Gojo.

“Talking to your wife, Gojo, keeping her company y’know? Shouldn’t leave such a pretty thing so lonely.”

“You’re. In. My. Seat.” Satoru mutters, teeth clenched together, and Toji laughs with ease, taking your hand, planting a kiss on the back of it with a wink.

“See ya around, doll.” He says, patting Gojo on the shoulder, and Satoru wants to rip his fucking arm off then, as he glares down at you, sitting in the seat, but you cross your arms, looking away.

“Did he touch you?” He demands quietly, you frown then.

“He was nice, I mean he-”

“Nice!? Looked like he wanted to eat you.”

“What do you care, looks like they were all over you. Oh look, they miss you, go say hi.” You say, as three girls giggle and point over at Satoru, his blue eyes narrow, leaning over you then, cupping your face with his hand.

“Think I wanted to be bombarded by flirty ass drunk women?”

“I don’t know!”

“Do you care if I do?”

“No! What do you care about me then?” You demand, whispering amongst the loud crowd of auctioneers, as they start lining pieces up for sale.

“Because he… you…” Satoru trails off, mouth opening and closing. “You are my wife right now, you know.”

“Fake wife.” You correct, seeing a vein throb in his temple.

“It doesn’t matter, how does it look when-”

“That’s what you care about, appearances? Don’t worry, I won’t ruin your precious appearance any.” You whisper, as the crowd settles, and a brilliant sapphire necklace is now on display.

“You act like you don’t care at all, I saw you.”

“So what!?”

“So why don’t you just tell me how -”

“Ten thousand, do I hear…”

“Shh.” You scowl at him, as he scowls back at you. “Maybe you should go sit with your girlfriends.”

He laughs softly, without humor. “You’re jealous.”

“Nope, you’ve always been that way. What’s surprising is not having seen a girl at the house.”

“You think I want-”

“Twenty Thousand, going once, going…”

“Want someone more your speed? Sure, I know this is just convenience, I'm not stupid.” You say, he scowls even deeper, his hand suddenly on your thigh in the darkened room, making your heart pound as it squeezes bruisingly.

“I’ll not have anyone touch you.” His words make no sense, they don’t even compute in your brain then.

“What do you care, hmm? If I did. If I was discrete. Remember?” You ask, bitingly and full of shit, and you watch the hurt in his eyes, hating yourself for a moment before his eyes turn insane, dilating until they’re almost black.

“You wanna fuck him, huh?” He demands, you scoff, shaking your head.

“You’re stupid, Satoru.”

“Me stupid!?”

“If you think that I want anyone but…” You pause then, gulping as people are starting to look, hearing your hushed arguments then, and you stand angrily, stomping off until you hit the bathroom, splashing water on your neck, trying to pull yourself together.

You almost said it.

You’ll never want anyone but Satoru, your best friend, and you never have, fuck you probably never will, and it’s terrifying you. When the door shuts and he’s there, chest heaving, you turn away, tears pricking your eyes. “Just go away, fuck it’s the ladies room.”

“You’re mad at me for talking to women at an event?”

“You’re mad at me for talking to someone at an event?”

Yes, fuck yes he’s furious that man got near you.

That maybe you’d want someone else, more than him.

He steps closer, hands on your shoulders now. ““You gonna be mad when I fuck someone in my room, huh?”

You freeze, turning and glaring up at him then. “I hear you jerk off every night, so what’s the difference?”

Satoru looms even closer, you feel his breath hit your lips, making your tummy clench at the thoughts of him. “And I hear you moan as you play with your little clit, ya frustrated your tiny fingers don’t hit?”

“Oh fuck you!” You turn now, shoving at him, chest heaving, but he pulls you to him, pressing you against the bathroom counter, glittering and ridiculously opulent, hands shaking when they’re on your waist.

“You should just ask for help, sounds like you can’t cum.” Satoru whispers, earning a smack on the face that makes him smirk.

“Maybe you should ask me, how many times do you need to jerk off a night, huh Toru?” Satoru’s laughing then, insanity, his cheek decorated with red from your little hand print.

“At least I make myself cum.”

“Fuck you, I’m over this. I’ll take the opposite side of the house, won’t have to hear your moans.”

“Good, won’t hear your pathetic whimpers.”

“Good!”

“Good!” You both stand there, him bent over, barring you with his arms. “Admit it, you’re jealous.”

“Nope, just annoyed with you. Over you, Mr. never has on a fucking shirt!”

“Good, I’m done, Miss walks around in slutty panties!”

“Ugh!” You shove at him again, until he’s slamming his lips on yours, and then you’re lifted like you’re nothing, when his tongue slips in your mouth, and you’re clinging to him eagerly, as he sits you on the sink, hungrily shoving up your red dress. “You’re gonna rip it, shit!”

“I’ll buy you twenty more, just shut up.” You go to retort when he’s kissing you again, deeper now, and you’re crying out right in a bathroom, knowing anyone could walk in, only serving to make your cunt dripping wet, when he finds it he moans, pulling back and staring at you. “Why are you so beautiful?”

You can’t speak then, you’re lost in him, in his blue eyes and his pink lips, in his big hands all over you, his whispering words crushing any resolve you try to have. You lose all reason then, as your head falls back as he kisses up your throat, and you’re gushing down his fingers, remembering their shape and feel as they tease your entrance.

“Please, Satoru…”

“Why are you so sweet now, huh? Where’s your attitude?” He murmurs, but you’re arching up, whining as he stares at you so hungry. “Should fuck that attitude out of you.”

“Please…” You whisper again, when Satoru bends down, his head between your thighs, and stares right at your glittering pussy.

“Oh my god, she’s s’fuckin pretty…” He murmurs then, licking a stripe up your slit that has you crying out into your hand, thighs shaking as he groans at finally being able to taste you. “S’yummy mmm…”

“Toru…what’re you-ah!” You’re covering your mouth again as he laps at your cunt, his nose bumping your sensitive clit, and you’re dripping down his face, hand finding purchase in his silken white hair, gripping it.

“Gonna lick this attitude out of you.” He whispers, as your sweet nectar pours down his mouth, his hands spreading your plump lips, fucking you with his tongue then, your head smacks the wall, nearly sobbing it feels so good. “No one’s licked it, have they, baby?” You shake your head. “Good, s’all mine, huh?”

“All… y-you… Toru what are- mnh!” He’s yanking you to him by your hips, devouring you now, unlike anything you’ve ever felt, having you close so fast it’s embarrassing, tongue dancing and delving between your folds, drinking you up loud and wanton in this bathroom.

“F-fuck….” He’s achingly hard now, cock throbbing, tip of his tongue circling your little clit as he spreads you wide, looking at your perfect pretty pussy.

“You’re just… looking at it…” You manage to whisper, and he’s chuckling now, leaning over you, sinking two fingers inside, making your eyes roll back, so sensitive you’re about to cum right then and there. “Imagining it dripping out cum, sweetheart, that’s all.”

Your brain short circuits. “With cum!?”

“Mmm.” He’s not using words anymore, not when he’s picking you up, planting your heeled feet back on the bathroom floor, turning you to face the mirror. He’s lifting that dress up higher and bending down, pressing against you, finally he’s lost it, so drunk off your pussy, he can’t take it anymore.

“Satoru, you’re insane, what are you…”His cock springs out, heavy and aching with need, as he bends you over, one hand on his cock, the other, wrapping your pretty little throat, as your eyes catch his in the mirror, glassy and dilated.

“Next time he or anyone talks to you, it’ll be with my cum dripping out of your pretty little pussy.”

Final Part

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Rest in the reblog <3

#gojo x reader #jjk smut #gojo smut #jjk x reader #satoru x reader #divider by cafekitsune #satoru gojo x female reader #gojo x female reader #gojo x f!reader #jujustu kaisen #gojo satoru #satoru smut #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x yn

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semisasseater · 3 months ago

Text

THAT WAS TOO FAR

love..

SUMMARY ‘ ni-ki took his joke a bit too far.

𓊆 尼基 𓊇 x fem!reader 㞫⠀⠀ ִ ⠀ 582 teasing crying crying emotional distress angst heavy fluff — 类型 fluff angst

✴︎ LIBRARY ✴︎

‧˚⠀⠀ 🤍⠀⠀ ɞ 作者注 : should i write more of crybaby and sensitive reader

Ni-ki had always been playful. He loved teasing you, poking fun at your reactions, and pushing your buttons just enough to get that cute pout or whiny protest. But today, he decided to take it a little further—just to see how you’d react.

You were curled up on the couch with him, resting your head on his shoulder while scrolling through your phone. It was a peaceful moment, but Ni-ki, being Ni-ki, just couldn’t leave it alone.

“You always act like such a baby you know that?” he snickered, nudging you lightly.

Your fingers stilled on the screen as you blinked up at him. “Huh?”

He smirked, tilting his head at you. “You’re so sensitive. It’s kinda cute but also pathetic.”

Your heart sank. He had teased you before, but this felt… different. Harsher.

You shifted uncomfortably. “I-I’m not that sensitive…”

Ni-ki chuckled, clearly entertained. “Oh, come on you get teary-eyed over the tiniest things. What are you gonna cry now?”

That last comment hit too hard. Your throat tightened, and before you could stop it, tears welled up in your eyes.

Ni-ki’s grin faltered when he noticed, but he figured you were just pouting. “See? I was right. You’re such a crybaby—”

A broken sob escaped you.

Ni-ki froze.

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you brought your hands up to cover your face, shoulders trembling. “W-why are you being so mean to me?” you choked out, voice barely above a whisper.

His stomach dropped. He had only meant to mess around, to fluster you—but he had never intended to actually hurt you.

“Wait, wait—baby, no, don’t cry” Ni-ki panicked, immediately pulling you into his arms. “I was just joking, I swear. I didn’t mean any of it I promise.”

You curled into his chest, sobbing quietly, and his heart clenched at the sound. He felt like the worst person in the world.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured into your hair, rocking you gently. “I was just being stupid, I didn’t think—I didn’t want to make you cry.”

You sniffled against his hoodie, still hiccuping with soft cries. “D-did I do something wrong?”

Ni-ki squeezed you tighter. “No, baby. Never. You didn’t do anything wrong, I was just being an idiot.” He kissed the top of your head, rubbing slow circles into your back. “Please don’t think that, okay? I love you so much, and I’m so sorry.”

You nodded weakly, your breathing slowly evening out as his warmth surrounded you. His apologies melted into gentle whispers of reassurance, his fingers tracing comforting patterns along your spine.

“You’re perfect” he whispered. “And I’ll never be that mean again, I swear. Just… please don’t cry anymore, okay?”

Your body grew heavier against him, exhaustion from your emotions taking over. Ni-ki held you close, continuing to whisper apologies and sweet words until he felt your breathing slow, signaling that you had drifted off.

A soft sigh left his lips as he nuzzled against your hair, guilt still weighing on his chest. He pressed another kiss to your temple before allowing his own eyes to close, holding you securely in his arms as sleep took him too.

He was never teasing you like that again.

@semisasseater

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suksatoru · 4 months ago

Text

—sixth sense!

↪ rin has a specil sixth sense reserved just for you and your silly antics <3

pairing: itoshi rin x fem!reader

rin itoshi has a very special skill, one where he can predict when you're about to spew absolute nonsense. he says he has a sixth sense reserved just for your antics, and he also swears you're going to be the reason he has a full head of gray hair before he turns twenty.

"rinnie," you try again—pouting when rin exhales sharply from his nose, refusing to meet your gaze. rin sits on the ground at the end of his bed, and you sit perched on top of his blankets—hanging your head upside down to stare at him like the cheshire cat.

"no." he replies, short and curt as you drape yourself over his shoulder with a sigh. he shifts the slightest bit so you can comfortably curl your head against his form. you nose at his throat before speaking up again, quieter this time.

"pretty please? it's really all i want, rinnie. it would make my day—no, my life! please?"

rin thought you were the idiot in this relationship, but he knows he's the real lovesick fool. it wasn't impossible to say no, he says it to other people all the time. but your eyes are hopeful and round. and truthfully, the sight of your frown was truly his undoing.

rin lets out a dramatic sigh, loud and annoyed—and you know he accepts his defeat when he hands you his hair brush with a grumble. you roll off of the bed, sitting criss cross on the ground across him in an instant as you grab the nearby rubber bands laying on the floor with a dopey grin

"you just relax while i work rinnie! i promise, you won't even know i'm here!"

rin's deadpan expression only makes you laugh quietly, and you lean forward to place a gentle peck onto his lips. you hover over his mouth after pulling away an inch, taking a moment to admire his face before grinning

"grumpy," you muse as you gently brush your nose against his. rin mumbles something about you knowing nothing about personal space as he tugs you onto his lap

"if i'm bald by the end of this—"

"oooh rinnie your hair's so soft! i'm stealing your shampoo later," you interrupt with a giggle, pressing soft kisses onto the crown of his head as his shoulders slump. his broody expression is far too adorable to not kiss, and after peppering enough kisses onto his cheeks to leave them tinted pink—you get to work.

rin doesn't know why you want to style his hair. he regards your sparkly pink hair clips with an eye roll. but your fingers are gentle and soothing as they work to brush and style his hair, and he can feel the exhaustion slowly dispersing from his muscles as he leans into your touch.

"it feels...nice. thank you," he murmurs softly, gently rubbing your thigh as you hum in response. he moves to take a glance at you, and his heart skips a beat when he sees your tongue poked out in concentration as you work on tying his hair. cute.

it takes another fifteen minutes for you to finish your assault on his head. rin's practically putty beneath your fingers now, and there's a barely visible furrow between his brows when you pull your touch away from him.

"you look like a prince... you should totally let me style your hair more often, rinnie!" you gush, smiling softly as you admire your work on him.

"i'll be the judge of that," he mutters with a small smile, reaching onto his bed to grab your phone. he bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling when he sees your wallpaper being his back and jersey number, but the smile is wiped off his face in an instant as he lets out a startled yelp—staring at his reflection in the camera app.

"yeah. not happening, you cheeky brat." he scoffs, pointing at his head with a scowl

"y/n, tell me where you got five hundred charms of hello kitty clips... what damned store did you rob? and why are there pink extensions in my hair? are they—is that fucking glitter in them?"

rin eventually fell victim to a photoshoot, though he shouldn't be surprised. did he really think he'd escape you that easily? he's not very amused by your new wallpaper of him afterwards, but he can't even try and stop the amusement glimmering in his emerald eyes.

"not a soul will see those pictures. or i swear, i'll stick you in a gold fish tank y/n." rin mutters later that night as you two lay in bed, pressing feather soft kisses onto your shoulder blades as he silently admires the way your lips jut out in an adorable pout. his threat isn't very scary when he holds you like you're the most precious thing in his life, but you nod anyway.

"okay," you sigh in defeat. rin's eyes narrow suspiciously as he wraps his arms around your waist, settling in for the night as he turns off his bedside lamp.

"night, y/n." he whispers gently, his lashes brushing against your cheek as he kisses you softly. your hand gently brushes his bangs away from his eyes, and his face softens at your giggles

"night, rinnie. tomorrow you can style my hair! and then, we can be twins..." you affirm quietly. it's dark in the room, the night outside blanketing you two. there's a sliver of moonlight pouring through the window, and it's the only reason you're able to see the gentle smile on rin's face before you fall asleep.

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svtiddiess · 5 months ago

Text

Show 'Em How It's Done

Synopsis: Everyone assumes Mingyu is the submissive one when it comes to bedroom activities, so he proves them wrong.

Pairing: non-idol!Mingyu x afab!reader

Genre: smut, oneshot, established relationship, non-idol! au

Rating: mature

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), creampie, semi-public sex, exhibitionism? (they're in a different room but can still be heard), dom!Mingyu, big dick!Mingyu, lemme know if I missed anything!

Note: This was requested! I hope you enjoy it!

Thank you so much to @seokgyuu and @okiedokrie for beta reading!

Click here to join my taglist!

Read on ao3

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

Your eyes light up as you see the cabin you're staying for the weekend come into view. Mingyu, your boyfriend, had planned this trip with his friend group—a much-needed escape to the woods. Thanks to Seungcheol's generous use of his credit card, they managed to rent a spacious and stunning cabin tucked away in nature.

At first, you assumed Mingyu wanted a boys-only weekend, but to your surprise, he was adamant that you join them. Despite your repeated refusals, he insisted this was the perfect chance for you to finally meet and get to know his closest friends. He also claimed that he'd be extremely sad and lonely if he spent an entire two days without you, a reason that made you snort. Eventually, you gave in, and Mingyu’s excitement over your agreement was downright infectious.

After a gruelling four-hour drive, you sigh and stretch, glad to finally move your stiff limbs. Your gaze shifts to Mingyu, who’s focused on reverse parking with one hand resting on the back of your seat. Your cheeks heat up—it’s ridiculous how even after six months together, he still makes your heart flutter over something so simple. But really, who could blame you? It's not your fault your boyfriend is so hot.

"Thanks for driving, my Mingoo," you say with a smile, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek.

"You missed," he pouts, tapping his lips with his finger.

Laughing, you lean in for a quick peck, but before you can pull away, Mingyu places a hand on the back of your head and deepens the kiss. A surprised squeak escapes you, followed by soft giggles against his lips.

"Did you really think I’d let you off the hook with that weak excuse of a kiss?" He teases, his grin playful.

"You’re such a baby," you huff, rolling your eyes.

"Your baby," he counters smugly.

Still chuckling, you climb out of the car and stretch again as Mingyu unloads your luggage. Your jaw drops as you take in the sight of the large cabin before you. It’s impressive—definitely worth thanking Seungcheol for later.

"Looks like some of them are already here," Mingyu says, nodding toward the other cars parked nearby.

Suddenly, the realisation hits that you’ll be meeting most of his friends for the first time, and nerves start to bubble up. You’ve met Seungcheol and Wonwoo before, but this will be your first encounter with the entire group. Mingyu has been close with them since high school, and despite going their separate ways for college and work, their bond has remained rock-solid.

Sensing your unease, Mingyu sets down the bags and walks over to you. He takes your hand, his touch steady and comforting, and flashes you a reassuring smile.

"Don’t stress, babe. They’re going to love you. I promise," he says softly.

"But what if I embarrass myself? What if the first impression I give them is of me being a total idiot?" you groan, your palms growing clammy.

Mingyu chuckles, shaking his head. "Babe, trust me. You can’t out-dumbass them. They’re the biggest idiots I know," he says with a laugh. "So relax, okay? You’ve got nothing to worry about."

His words, paired with the kiss he plants on your forehead, manage to soothe your nerves a little. You sigh, nodding reluctantly. Mingyu squeezes your hand one last time before returning to the luggage. Taking a deep breath, you follow him inside, determined to make the best of the weekend.

Getting to know Mingyu’s friend group has been…an experience, to say the least. He wasn’t kidding when he said they were idiots but in the best possible way. They’re warm, welcoming, and a little chaotic—a combination that instantly makes you feel at ease. In fact, Soonyoung, Seungkwan, and Seokmin even "initiated" you into their inner circle. You’ve officially become one of the boys.

Right now, the entire group is sprawled across the living room, all varying levels of drunk, playing games. You’re sitting on the floor between Mingyu and Vernon, caught up in a lively game of Truth or Dare. Currently, Jeonghan has dared Joshua to get slapped in the face with kimchi, and to everyone’s delight, Joshua actually went through with it.

You’re doubled over, clutching your stomach in laughter, tears streaming down your face as Joshua wipes kimchi off his cheek with an exasperated expression. Jeonghan, of course, looks beyond pleased with himself.

It’s Soonyoung’s turn next, and judging by the mischievous glint in his eyes and his unsteady giggles, the alcohol is fully in charge now. He spins toward Mingyu with a maniacal grin.

"So, Gyu. Truth or dare?" he asks, practically bouncing in place.

Mingyu, who’s only slightly tipsy, shakes his head with a laugh. "Truth. I’m not risking anything."

"Boo!" Soonyoung pouts dramatically, earning exaggerated groans of disappointment from the rest of the group.

"Buzzkill!" Seokmin calls out from the couch.

"I’d rather not get kimchi-slapped by Jeonghan," Mingyu quips, casting a wary glance at Jeonghan.

"Hey, it’s an enlightening experience," Joshua deadpans, still dabbing his face with a tissue. Jeonghan simply laughs.

Soonyoung suddenly gasps, his eyes wide as if he’s just discovered the secret to the universe. "Oh my God, I got it!" he shouts, his grin downright unhinged. "Gyu, is it true that you’re the submissive one in the bedroom?!"

Your jaw drops. The room instantly explodes with laughter.

"W-What?!" Mingyu stammers, his brows furrowing in shock.

"You heard me!" Soonyoung giggles. "You’re the submissive one, aren’t you?"

Mingyu scoffs, shaking his head. "I’m not."

"Aw, come on, Gyu. Don’t be shy about it," Jeonghan teases, his grin only fueling the chaos. The laughter around you grows louder.

Your face burns as the conversation continues, the guys piling on the teasing with no mercy.

"Guys, seriously, can we not?" Mingyu whines, clearly flustered.

"Not until you admit it!" Seungcheol grins, leaning forward with mock intensity.

"It’s true, right, Y/N? Mingyu’s the submissive one in the bedroom, isn’t he?" Seungkwan chimes in, his laughter contagious.

Your cheeks heat up even more, and you hide your face in your hands, which only makes them laugh harder.

"No need to be shy, Y/N. We all know Gyu’s a massive simp for you—in and out of the bedroom," Joshua says with a wink.

You giggle softly, finally giving in. "Well…he is a huge simp for me."

The room erupts into chaos, everyone howling with laughter.

"She admitted it!" Soonyoung screams, practically rolling on the floor.

"So it’s true! He is submissive!" Jun adds, laughing so hard he has to wipe his eyes.

"I knew it!" Chan chimes in, grinning from ear to ear.

Mingyu groans, his face buried in his hands. "Babe~," he whines, looking at you with a pout.

You offer him an apologetic smile and lean in to kiss his cheek. "Sorry," you murmur, trying to stifle a laugh.

Mingyu grumbles and pouts as the rest of the boys continue to roar with laughter.

The game carries on, but you notice your beer is empty. Announcing to the group that you’re heading to the kitchen to grab more, you stand up and make your way into the next room, separated from the living area by a wall.

You open the fridge and grab a bottle, then reach for the kitchen drawer to find a bottle opener—only to discover it’s missing. With a quiet grumble, you crouch down to check the lower drawers, rummaging through them in hopes of finding what you need.

That’s when you feel it—a presence behind you, someone pressing up against your back. You gasp softly and straighten up quickly, attempting to turn around, but the person behind you cages you in, their arms trapping you against the counter.

"So… it’s true, huh? That I’m the submissive one?" Mingyu’s voice is low as he whispers in your ear.

Relief washes over you when you realise it’s just your boyfriend. Letting out a soft laugh, you shake your head. "Gyu, they were just messing with you," you say, amused at how hung up he still is on the topic.

"But you didn’t deny it," he murmurs, his voice tinged with mock offence. "You told them I’m a simp for you."

"That’s because you are a simp for me," you tease, glancing at him over your shoulder.

"I am," he admits, his tone unashamed as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. His face nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. "But I’m definitely not the submissive one."

Before you can respond, Mingyu rolls his hips against you, his movement deliberate. The sudden sensation draws a surprised gasp from your lips.

"Right, babe?" he teases, and you can feel the smug grin spreading across his face as he continues his little game.

You bite your bottom lip, your body warming under his touch as he grinds against you, the growing pressure unmistakable. "Gyu, not here," you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper. "They’ll hear us."

"That’s the whole point, sweetheart," he purrs, his voice dripping with mischief.

"Fuck, Gyu," a soft whimper escapes your lips at a particularly hard grind, causing Mingyu to chuckle.

"What if I just bend you over and fuck you right here? You would like that, wouldn't you, sweetheart?" He chuckles.

"Gyu, I-" A loud moan escapes your lips, and you quickly bite your lip to prevent any more sounds from escaping.

Grabbing your hips, Mingyu starts guiding your hips against his, pushing your ass against his hard cock. You feel your mind start to get fuzzy as you feel how hard he has become.

"Beg for it, sweetheart. Beg for me to ruin you with my cock," he purrs in your ear.

"Gyu, please… I need it," you whisper, your cheeks flushing with heat.

"Need what, babe?" he asks, his tone playful, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips. Your soft whine only makes his grin widen.

"Need you to ruin me with your cock," you mumble.

"Good girl," he whispers before placing a kiss on the shell of your ear.

Without warning, he bends you over the kitchen counter; a yelp escapes your lips as your cheeks make contact with the cold marble. A slow, teasing hand runs down your back, leaving goosebumps in its trail; you can't help but let out a small whine of frustration, eliciting a chuckle from Mingyu.

"So impatient," he smirks as he slaps your ass, drawing a gasp from you.

He unbuckles your pants, and you help him shimmy it off of you, shivering as the cold air nips at your bare legs. He hums as he rubs a finger on your panty-clad pussy, making you whimper.

"So wet already?" he teases with a low chuckle, his tone dripping with mockery.

"Gyu, please," you plead, your voice trembling with desperation, unable to endure his relentless teasing any longer.

"Admit it," he growls softly, his lips brushing against your ear. "Admit that you're the submissive one in bed."

"I'm the submissive one in bed," you cry out, your cheeks burning. "Now, please, just fuck me already!"

Laughing at your impatience, Mingyu slaps your pussy, making you mewl as a sharp wave of pain and pleasure wash over you.

"Such a good girl. My good girl," he growls before unbuckling his pants and slipping out his cock.

Moving your panties to the side, he teases you by rubbing his dick against your folds, coating the tip with your juices. Desperate to feel him, you arch your hips back, seeking more, but Mingyu firmly holds you in place, pressing you tightly against the counter with ease. You let out a frustrated whine, wiggling your hips in a futile attempt to gain some control, but Mingyu’s strength easily overpowers you. Helpless under his grip, you surrender, letting him take the lead like the good girl he knows you are.

He spits on his cock, using it as lube, and gives it a few pumps before slowly inserting it into your tight hole. Your eyes roll back, and your mouth goes agape as you finally feel his cock inside you; his cock stretching you out deliciously. Mingyu's big, the biggest you've ever had, so every time he fucks you, it feels like the first.

Grunts escape his lips as he tries to restrain himself from slamming into you; you feel so good wrapped around him. A choked whimper escapes your lips when you feel his tip kiss your cervix. He pulls out halfway before slamming back into you, stealing the breath from your lungs.

Without hesitation, Mingyu picks up the pace; each thrust rough and relentless. Broken moans and soft whimpers spill from your lips, your mind too clouded with pleasure to focus on anything but the way he fills you so perfectly.

"That's right, sweetheart," he purrs against your ear, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "Be loud. Let everyone know how good I’m making you feel."

"G-Gyu," you manage to moan, your voice trembling. "S-so good… feels so good."

"Only I can make you feel this good, isn’t that right, sweetheart?" he growls, his voice rough with possession. One hand moves to grip your neck, holding you firmly in place, while the other steadies your hips.

"Yes! You—only you!" you cry out, your voice shaky as the overwhelming pleasure pushes you closer to the edge.

"Gyu, I'm so close! Please—please, please!" you beg, your words tumbling out in desperate sobs as you plead for release.

The hand holding your hips shifts to circle your clit with precision, and you scream out his name. The knot in your stomach finally unravels, and your vision blurs as a wave of euphoria crashes over you. Pleasure ripples through your body, leaving you breathless as you chant his name like a prayer. Mingyu doesn't let up, his movements steady as he thrusts into you, guiding you through the intensity of your release. After a few more thrusts, he cums inside you, filling you up; your fluids mixing together.

You both take a moment to catch your breath, the room filled with nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing. Slowly, he slides out, a soft whimper escaping your lips at the sensation. Pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder, he adjusts your panties back into place. You cringe slightly, feeling the fabric cling uncomfortably to your skin.

"Keep my cum in you; I'll make sure to fuck it back into you later," he purrs, making you blush.

He helps you stand and gently guides you back into your pants before slipping into his own clothes. Running his fingers through your messy hair, he smooths it down before wiping away any drool and sweat from your face. Then, he leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. You smile into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. When he pulls back, he nuzzles your nose with his, drawing a soft giggle from you.

"Ready to head back?" he murmurs, his voice low and affectionate.

You nod, grabbing your now lukewarm beer before following him back into the living room.

"Did we miss anything?" Mingyu asks casually as he takes a seat, acting as if he didn't just fuck your brains out a few minutes before.

"N-Nothing, you missed nothing," Soonyoung stammers, awkwardly clearing his throat as he tries to hide his very obvious boner.

Your gaze sweeps across the room, and you realise the rest of them are just as flustered, each one failing miserably to hide their boners. You burst into laughter at their awkward state, and Mingyu joins in, clearly enjoying the moment.

With a smug grin, Mingyu looks around at his friends before cupping your face and pulling you in for a deep, possessive kiss. The room fills with groans and exaggerated complaints.

"Get a room!" someone yells, earning more laughter from the both of you.

You giggle into the kiss, relishing the playful teasing, while Mingyu smirks against your lips, clearly pleased to have proven their earlier jabs entirely wrong.

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