#he’s held together by magnets

[lynnbutlertron]

omg actually speaking of portal look at this guy i made. it was a hyperfixation project and took me like 8 hours straight he has interchangeable eyes and stuff and he is my life force . live laugh love virgil

[sunni-stuff]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 This is part 4 Part 5

His question hit like a punch, and the pressure of it lingered in the air, heavy and suffocating. Armed Forces Day? Three years ago? A sharp jolt of recognition hit you, though the details of that night remained fuzzy. The memories were there, but they felt distant—like something you hadn't allowed yourself to fully remember after becoming a mother. 

You steadied yourself, trying to mask the unease rising in your chest. “What are you talking about?” you tried to sound steady but the tightening grip on your purse betrayed the rush of nerves running through you.

Simon shifted, his broad frame nearly eclipsing the dim light of the bar. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he seemed to wrestle in his own head, as though each word carried a burden too heavy to bear. “There was a night,” he began, his tone low and rough, every syllable deliberate. “Here. Three years ago. You were here. So was I.”

Your heart skipped, a wave of realization hitting with an almost physical force. The hazy recollections of that night flooded back, slowly accumulating together—laughter, drinks, an unexpected connection. Something that hadn’t felt planned but had burned far too bright to ignore.

The knot in your stomach twisted painfully, every part of you urging you to push it away, but the truth had already begun to sink in. “You’re…” The words stalled in your throat, heavy and lodged, the sentence unfinished as the reality stung like an accusation between you.

Simon exhaled sharply, part sigh, part laugh—but there was no humor in it. His gaze locked onto yours with unsettling intensity, and for a moment, it felt like he was waiting for you to break. “Yeah,” he replied simply, the word thick with certainty. “And she’s mine, isn’t she?”

A cold shiver ran down your spine, your body instinctively stiffening. The truth strung in the silence between you both, too glaring to avoid. Heart racing, every sense screamed to deny it, to distance yourself from this conversation before it spiraled out of control. But anything that could be said felt wrong, heavy on your tongue as you forced them out: “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Simon’s eyes held yours, filled with something you hadn’t seen before—a desperation that cut through his usually composed demeanor. “Please,” he urged, the plea more potent. “Just tell me.”

How could this be happening? How could something so raw, so unspoken, suddenly spill into the air between the two of you? The weight of the moment anchored you, and for a moment, you couldn’t find a way to move past it. 

“She is,” you muttered at last, the confession slipping out like an unwanted secret. Fingers clenched tightly against the table’s edge, grounding yourself against the suffocating reality pressing in. “I never thought… never thought you'd come back into the picture.”

A brief silence stretched out before you spoke again, everything tumbling out in a rush. "I didn’t even know your name. All I recall was you kept making me." The admission hung in the air, lighter than it was, an attempt to lighten everything you didn’t want to say. 

The memory refused to stay buried. His face from that night, the intensity of his stare under the bar’s muted glow, how his presence seemed magnetic and overwhelming all at once—it all surfaced, unbidden. The connection had been undeniable, but that was your secret to carry. He didn’t need to know the details you still clung to.. 

“I don’t even know how it happened,” The sentence barely made it past your lips. “We used protection.” Doubt crept into your mind, unraveling the careful narrative you’d built for yourself. Did we? The past, fogged by alcohol and blurred moments, refused to come into focus.

Simon blinked, the blankness in his expression giving way to confusion, then disbelief. “Did we?” he asked with an edge of uncertainty. He was searching for answers neither of you seemed able to provide. Silence filled the space between you, heavy with unspoken questions.

"That parts a bit fuzzy," you admitted quietly, thoughts drifting away, the edges of the remembrance blurring with every passing second. “And clearly we didn't given our current situation.” 

Meeting his gaze, you knew this was the man from that fortunate night. Only different. More mature as if life hadn’t been kind to him. “All I know is… I woke up, and it was just me.” The recollection hung heavier than expected, twisting in your chest. "I never imagined I’d run into you again."

A heavy silence settled between the two of you, the gravity of everything left unsaid pressing down on the air. Neither of you knew how to move forward, or even if moving forward was possible.

“I knew she was mine,” Simon muttered, his hand clenching into a fist at his side. He looked like he was trying to hold something back, fighting against his own emotions threatening to break free.

You blinked in disbelief, the reality of his revelation settling in like ice in your veins. “You saw her?” The shock was evident. The idea that he had been so close—watching, perhaps even knowing—yet remained silent was almost too much to process.

Simon nodded, his gaze never meeting yours as he began. “Last month. When you were leaving the café with her. Johnny stopped you, and I was there.” He hesitated, swallowing hard as if the bulk of it all was pressing on him. “Johnny and the lads, they were the first to say they saw a little girl with my face. I was skeptical at first But then… then I saw the two of you together. And I saw it. Saw me in her. I had no idea she was even a possibility. Or that you were, for that matter."

Your breath hitched, a sharp sting rising in your chest. The anger that had been simmering beneath the surface, the hurt, and the confusion all collided in one sudden wave. “Why didn’t you say anything?” The question shot out before you could stop it, the accusation sharp and loaded with all the frustration. He had been so close. Watching. Why didn’t he speak up?

Simon paused, his gaze dropping to his hands, fingers flexing as if he were trying to grasp for something he couldn’t hold. The silence stretched long between you, the tension palpable, as if the room itself was holding its breath. He wanted to say something, anything, but nothing came. 

“I…” He started, staring at his hands as though they might hold the answer. “I’m not good with things like this, love.” He rubbed the back of his neck, having a hard time fully expressing how he felt but this moment needed authenticity. “I needed time to figure out if I could step into a life that was already doing fine without me. I was afraid of complicating things, of ruining something that was just fine without me."

You didn’t expect what he said to hit you so hard. The impact of his confession—that he had stayed away because he wasn’t sure if he was fit to be a part of your life, Adira’s life—settled deep within you, heavier than you could have imagined. You’d been fine, hadn’t you? Raising Adira, carving out a life on your own. But there's always been that lingering voice in the back of your mind, that small, quiet thought of “what if?” What if things had been different? What if he had been there from the start? Maybe you wouldn’t have had to quit those overpriced mommy-and-me classes because of those judgmental women who gossiped behind your back. Maybe things would’ve been easier.

“I wasn’t about to just waltz in, love,” Simon’s voice softened, more vulnerable now, like he was carefully weighing his thoughts. “I needed to know if you’d even want me here. You and her…” His gaze darkened for a moment, his voice trailing off as though unable to bear too much out in the open. “I wasn’t sure if I was the right person to step into something already so… perfect.”

In those words, there was something you hadn’t expected to hear from him: honesty. He was afraid. Afraid of being the one to ruin what you had built. Afraid of not being enough for you or for Adira.

“I guess I understand,” you said quietly. "I just wish you showed up sooner."

Simon didn’t answer right away. Something within him flickered with guilt, and for a moment, you both stood there in silence. He glanced down at his hands, fingers twitching like he wanted to reach out, but wasn’t sure if he had the right to.

"Can I meet her?" Simon asked nervously, a grown man fidgeting in his seat, the weight of his request sinking in.

"Now?" You chuckled, trying to brighten the moment. "It's late. I'm sure she's already asleep."

Simon’s gaze flickered with hesitation, but the desire was clear. He was barely holding it together, as if afraid that the chance to meet his daughter would slip away if he didn’t ask now. 

"I understand," he mumbles after a pause, almost to himself, but there was a longing there you couldn’t ignore. "I just…I need to see her. To know her. Even if just for a moment."

The magnitude of the situation pressed down on you again, this wasn’t something you had expected when you woke up this morning. You had no clue what to do with all of this, with him, with Adira’s future—your future. But still, you could hear his sincerity.

"Tomorrow," You decided. "We can meet up tomorrow, but it has to be on her terms. She's not exactly the warmest with new people."

Simon nodded, his expression a mix of relief and determination. "I can wait."

You gave him a small smile, a silent acknowledgment of the moment. There was still so much to figure out, but at least now, for the first time, there was a possibility. A chance to rebuild what had been lost. "Bring toys," you suggested sincerely, thinking about what would make her happy. "She likes trains. Doesn’t need to be anything cartoon-ish, just a proper train."

Simon blinked, a touch of confusion in his gaze. "She doesn't like dolls? Like most girls?" His tone had a hint of disbelief, as though he couldn’t quite picture a little girl who wasn’t into the typical, pink frilly things.

The thought of dolls made your stomach tighten, and you shook your head vehemently, as if to expel the very idea. "God, no," you replied, unease creeping into the conversation. "Please, don’t bring dolls. That’s the last thing I want." You shuddered as you spoke, recalling all the unnerving memories. "She gets all Sid from Toy Story with them."

Simon’s brow furrowed even deeper, clearly unsure. "What does that mean?"

You visibly grimaced, the image flashing vividly in your mind. "It means I wake up to doll heads scattered all over the place," you say, your voice low and serious. "And it's... creepy. Like she's planning something with them. It’s like waking up in a horror movie."

Simon chuckled at first, but as he saw the unflinching seriousness in your expression, his laughter quickly turned uncertain. His grin faded, and the unease that filled his eyes told you that he was realizing this wasn’t some joke. "You’re messing with me, right?"

Your stare at him, completely deadpan. "I wish I was."

For a moment, Simon just stared, taking in your unwavering expression. His lips parted, a nervous laugh escaping him as he absorbed warning. "Alright," he said slowly, now understanding your cautious warning. "No dolls. Trains. Got it."

You gave a relieved sigh, feeling the baggage lift off your shoulders. The tension hadn’t fully gone, but for now, at least the toy issue was settled. There were plenty of bigger things to confront later, but this? This was a small victory.

This one is a little shorter than the rest, simply because I want the meet up chapter to be really long for yall! :3

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[chosok-amo]

ALWAYS : GOJO SATORU

gojo is an actor, a famous one, but he’s also been your boyfriend for a few years. you have an argument with him when he agrees to have a fake relationship with his costar without even telling you.

warning. established relationship! gojo, non-sorcerer! gojo, angst to comfort, reader thinking about leaving him.

gojo satoru, the name on everyone's lips, the face lighting up screens and hearts alike. after his series, jujutsu kaisen, hit the airwaves, his fame exploded. people couldn’t get enough of him—the magnetic charm, that boyish yet strikingly handsome face, his tall frame that seemed to demand attention, and that playful personality that left fans swooning. soon, he was everywhere, his every move followed, every glance analyzed. the media loved him, and so did the world. and it wasn’t long before rumors began to stir, fans shipping him with his co-star, utahime, the chemistry they shared on screen now fueling wild speculations.

but you— you loved him before all of that. before the fame, before the cameras, before the world started calling his name. you'd been his since high school, standing by his side through the quiet moments when it was just the two of you, when the world was smaller, and it felt like nothing could touch what you had. in all those years together, not once did you doubt him. not once did you question his love or his loyalty. satoru was yours, and you were his, in a way that felt unshakable, unbreakable.

until tonight.

you’re sitting on the couch, in the living room of your shared apartment, the place that always felt like home when he was around. the soft glow of the television flickers across your face, but the news it brings feels like a punch to the gut. there, on the screen, are headlines you never thought you'd see—rumors swirling about satoru dating utahime. the photos, the whispers, they feel like shards of glass cutting into you. your heart sinks, heavy and cold, and the world around you seems to crumble, falling to pieces at your feet. the trust you once held so tightly begins to tremble, slipping through your fingers like sand.

your chest tightens, breath shallow, as tears threaten to spill. it’s a slow ache, this feeling of betrayal—an unraveling of everything you thought you knew. but even with the panic swirling inside, even as the overthinking begins its cruel work, you hold onto a fragile hope. this has to be a misunderstanding, a twisted story spun by the media. you tell yourself to wait, to breathe, to stay strong until he comes home, until he can explain it all away.

hours tick by, and the apartment feels too quiet, too still. the silence presses in, and every minute that passes drags you deeper into doubt. finally, the door clicks open. it’s late—almost one in the morning. you watch as satoru steps through the threshold, his movements slow, his eyes glazed, the unmistakable scent of alcohol hanging heavy in the air between you.

satoru’s familiar smile lights up his face the moment his eyes land on you, that same warm, loving expression you’ve seen countless times. even through the haze of alcohol, there’s a softness in his gaze, a look of pure adoration as he leans against the doorframe for a moment, taking you in. despite the lateness of the hour, despite the swirling rumors, his eyes still hold that undeniable love, as if nothing in the world could change what he feels for you.

he steps closer, his movements slow but deliberate, and before you can say a word, his long arms wrap around your smaller frame. the embrace is warm, familiar, his body pressing against yours with a kind of gentle urgency. satoru buries his head in the crook of your neck, nuzzling into your skin like he always does when he needs comfort or closeness. his hold tightens around you, as if anchoring himself to you, as if the weight of the world outside disappears when he’s in your arms.

“i missed you,” he mumbles against your neck, voice low and slightly slurred from the alcohol. his breath is warm, his touch soothing, and for a moment, despite everything, everything seems like it’s as it should be between the two of you.

he pulls back just enough to look at you, the smile on his face wider, his gaze a bit more unfocused. he cups your face, his thumb gently tracing the line of your cheekbone. “you’ve been waiting up for me, dollface?”

you meet his blue eyes, those familiar pools of endless blue now a bit dull, clouded by the alcohol and the late hour. they still carry warmth, but beneath it all, you can see the exhaustion and the weight of something unspoken. his thumb traces your cheek with such tenderness, and for a brief second, it almost feels like everything is normal, like the rumors you’d seen and the doubts gnawing at your chest were just figments of your imagination. but as you nod silently, unable to bring yourself to speak, the lump in your throat grows heavier.

you watch his face, his smile a little too wide, his gaze unfocused, and your heart tightens. you want to ask him, demand the truth, but the words stay trapped inside, tangled with fear and uncertainty. instead, you just nod again, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as you fight the urge to cry. the silence between you feels thick, and the world seems to hang in the balance, teetering between the love you’ve always known and the fear of what might come next.

satoru’s smile falters for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he can sense the tension in the air. he can see the way you cling to his shirt, the tears threatening to spill from your eyes, and there’s a brief flicker of guilt in his expression. but he masks it quickly with another, more forced, smile.

“hey,” he murmurs, his thumbs gently wiping away the tear that escapes down your cheek. “why the tears, dollface?”

he can senses your inner turmoil when you don’t answer, the tension in your body, the way you cling to the fabric of his shirt tighten like a lifeline. the haze of alcohol makes everything hazy, his thoughts muddled and his reactions slower, but he can feel the storm brewing inside you. he leans his forehead against yours, his warm breath ghosting against your skin.

“dollface,” he murmurs, his voice laced with a mix of gentleness and intoxication, “i can see that pretty little head of yours overthinking. talk to me.”

your breath catches in your throat as he leans his forehead against yours, his closeness making it harder to suppress the storm raging inside you. his warmth, the familiar scent of him mixed with alcohol, wraps around you like a blanket, but it does nothing to soothe the ache in your chest. his words, so gentle yet muddled by intoxication, only deepen the conflict inside you. his voice pulls you in, but it’s the nagging thought in the back of your mind, the one you’ve been trying to ignore, that finally breaks through.

with trembling hands, you pull back just enough to meet his eyes, your grip on his shirt tightening even further, knuckles white from the strain. the words hang in the air between you, unspoken but heavy. your heart pounds in your chest as you force yourself to ask the question you’ve been dreading.

“did you... did you cheat on me with utahime, ‘toru?”

your voice is barely above a whisper, shaking with fear and vulnerability. you can feel the weight of the question settle into the space between you, and for a moment, it feels like time stops. the tears that had been threatening to fall finally spill over, your chest tight with the possibility that everything you had believed in, everything you had built together, could shatter with his next words.

satoru's reaction is immediate, his eyes widening as the weight of your words sinks in. without hesitation, he quickly shakes his head, his hands gripping your shoulders firmly but gently, grounding you both. there's a slight frown on his face, the alcohol clouding his thoughts, making it harder for him to process what you're feeling, but his urgency to reassure you is clear.

“no, no, no,” he mutters, his voice firm despite the slur, “of course not. i’d never do that to you, never.” his words come out rushed, almost desperate, as if the mere idea of it hurts him. he leans in closer, his blue eyes more focused now, searching yours for understanding.

“i love you too much, dollface. you have to know that,” he continues, his voice softer but filled with sincerity. “there’s no one else, not utahime, not anyone. it’s just you.”

his thumbs brush against your shoulders, his frown deepening as he tries to break through the haze of alcohol. he pulls you into him again, hugging you tightly, as if holding you close would somehow prove his words, his body trembling slightly against yours with the weight of his emotion.

you swallow hard, forcing a tight smile as you look up at him, your voice barely steady. “then why did i see the news, satoru? about you dating utahime?”

the question slips from your lips, though the lump in your throat makes it harder to speak. you’re trying to keep yourself from breaking, to hold back the tears threatening to fall, but the ache in your chest won’t ease. every part of you feels fragile, like you’re on the edge of crumbling.

you watch his expression carefully, searching for something—an explanation, a sign that what you saw wasn’t real. but even as you hold onto the hope in his words, the hurt gnaws at you, and you wonder if your heart can handle the truth, whatever it may be. your grip on his shirt loosens slightly, but you can’t stop the tremble in your fingers as you push through the overwhelming emotion rising within you.

satoru's expression falters again, his grip on you tightening, the alcohol making it harder for him to control his feelings. there's a mix of guilt and frustration in his eyes, a conflict warring within him. “it’s not what you think…” he starts, his words slightly slurred, “it’s all just... it’s all for the press, you have to understand…”

he’s trying to make you understand, to make you see past the headlines and rumors, but the complexity of the situation and the amount of alcohol in his system makes it difficult. he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you with a desperate kind of possessiveness. “it’s all for publicity, doll,” he repeats, his voice a bit more pleading now. “they’re pushing a narrative, but you know me. you know what we have. i would never betray you… never.”

he leans his forehead against yours again, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you believe him. the scent of alcohol is strong, but beneath it, you can still smell the familiar scent of his cologne, the one that’s always so comfortingly ‘him’.

his words swirl around in your mind, a mix of desperation and pleading, but they don’t quite settle. the weight of his arms around you feels heavier now, almost suffocating, and as his forehead presses against yours again, you find yourself pulling away, pushing him back gently but firmly. your eyes narrow, the confusion and hurt bubbling up inside you, and before you can stop yourself, the question bursts out.

“what? so you and utahime are just pretending to date? for the media?”

your voice trembles with disbelief, the words sharp and cutting. the idea feels like a betrayal all on its own, the thought of him allowing the world to believe in something so intimate with someone else. you’re struggling to keep your emotions in check, trying to hold on to the last thread of composure you have left, but the pain in your chest only grows stronger.

your tears threaten to spill again, but you blink them back, refusing to let them fall. the ache in your throat tightens as you wait for his response, your heart pounding with a mixture of anger and desperation for the truth.

satoru’s eyes widen further, the flicker of surprise obvious in his expression. he almost looks taken aback by your bluntness, the alcohol impairing his ability to react in a more composed manner. he stares at you, the weight of your words and the look in your eyes making it clear that you’re not buying into his explanation.

he tries to step closer to you again, his hands reaching out to touch you, but you step back, maintaining the distance between you two. he’s not used to you being this confrontational, this insistent, and for a moment, he looks almost lost, the situation overwhelming him in his current state. he swallows hard, the guilt and confusion clear in his eyes, as he runs a hand through his hair.

“i... it’s not like that,” he finally manages to stutter out, the words coming out shaky. “it’s just for appearances, for the sake of our careers... it’s not real. i swear, dollface. you have to believe me...” his voice is pleading, desperate even, as he tries to make you understand. the sight of you pulling away is like a punch to his gut, the fear of losing you obvious in his expression.

your frown deepens as his shaky explanation sinks in, but it doesn’t soothe the ache in your chest. instead, his words make the hurt sharper, and your heart feels heavier with each passing second. you take a step back, creating more distance between you, and the pain you’ve been holding inside finally spills over into your voice.

“you didn’t even bother to talk to me about this, satoru,” you say, your voice low but thick with emotion. “i had to find out like everyone else… through the news.”

the weight of your words hangs between you, and the hurt is unmistakable in your tone. your fingers tremble at your sides as you fight back the tears you’ve been holding in. “do you know how that felt? seeing you… like that, with her, and not even having a clue?” you swallow hard, the lump in your throat making it harder to speak. you want to believe him, to hold onto the love you’ve always shared, but the betrayal of being left in the dark cuts deep.

satoru swallows hard, the impact of your words hitting him like a ton of bricks. the guilt on his face is almost tangible as he watches you step away, the hurt and disbelief in your eyes more apparent than ever before. his hands fall to his sides, the helplessness of the situation evident in his expression.

“i...” he starts, his voice trembling a bit, “i wanted to tell you... but i couldn’t...” the excuse sounds hollow even to his own ears, a weak attempt to justify something that shouldn’t have happened. he wants to reach out, to close the distance between you, but he knows that the hurt he’s caused won’t disappear with just a touch. his shoulders slump, his eyes dropping to the ground as he tries to find the right words, but nothing seems right.

“i swear, dollface...” he tries again, his voice barely above a whisper. “it’s not real. she means nothing. you mean everything. you have to believe me... you have to...”

the vulnerability in his gaze is raw and desperate, the pain in his voice mirroring your own. despite the alcohol clouding his thoughts, the fear of losing you is clearer than ever. “i just didn’t want you to be upset.”

a bitter scoff escapes your lips before you can stop it, the sound cutting through the tension in the room like a knife. you cross your arms, the sarcasm lacing your words as you look at him with an almost mocking smile, your emotions spilling out in a rush.

“oh, well now that i know the truth, i’m just sooo happy, baby,” you say, your voice dripping with false enthusiasm. “euphoria, really. thank you for this… for such happiness.”

you let out a sharp laugh, rolling your eyes as your hand moves dramatically to your chest, as if to emphasize how ‘grateful’ you are. your expression is anything but happy, the hurt still etched into your features as you step closer to him, your fingers barely brushing his arm in a gesture that feels more like a mockery than comfort.

“thank you for letting me find out this way,” you continue, your voice faltering slightly beneath the sarcasm, the real pain slipping through your facade. “it’s exactly what i needed.” even as you stand so close, your words create a distance between you both that feels impossible to bridge.

your sarcasm hits him like a slap across the face, your words cutting deep. he flinches, the mixture of hurt and guilt in his eyes almost palpable. your expression is harsh, your smile laced with bitterness, and the false enthusiasm in your tone is a stark contrast to the pain evident in your gaze.

as your fingers brush against his arm, a slight shudder runs through him. he can sense your hurt, the anger behind your mocking expression, and the way you step closer, almost mockingly, only makes him feel worse. “stop…” he murmurs, his voice low and choked with emotion.

“stop it, dollface,” he tries again, his hands reaching out to grab your arms in a desperate attempt to keep you from further pulling away. “please, listen to me... it’s not what you think... i never meant to hurt you…” his voice trembles, the alcohol-fueled emotions leaving him more vulnerable than usual. he can’t stand the way you’re looking at him—with pain and disappointment in your gaze. he wants to fix this, to take it back, but the damage has already been done.

a breathy chuckle escapes you, but there's no warmth in it, only bitterness. you pull away slightly from his grip, your eyes hardening as you meet his pleading gaze. “of course you didn’t mean to hurt me,” you say, your voice low and sharp, “ou’re just a coward, satoru. a coward who only thought about himself.”

your words are harsh, but they flow out before you can stop them, your frustration and heartbreak spilling over. “you didn’t even consider how i’d feel, did you? seeing it in the news, instead of hearing it from you.”

you shake your head, taking a step back as the weight of it all crashes down on you. “you thought you could protect me by keeping me in the dark? you thought it would be easier for me to find out that way?” your voice cracks at the end, the anger you’ve been holding onto breaking under the pressure of your hurt.

you look at him, eyes burning with unshed tears, but you refuse to let them fall. “you always said i was the most important person in your life, but you couldn’t even give me the respect of telling me the truth.”

every word you throw at him feels like a dagger to the heart, each one sharper and more painful than the last. the alcohol has made him weaker, less in control, and your words cut through him, exposing all of his flaws and mistakes.

“i... i just wanted to protect you,” he stammers out, his grip on you loosening, his fingers trembling. “i didn’t want you to worry... i didn’t want to hurt you...” he knows his excuses sound hollow and weak, the guilt weighing heavily on him.

you take another step back, your eyes narrowing as his words hit you, hollow and weak. your heart aches, but anger swells inside you, pushing the sadness deeper. “protect me?” you repeat, your voice low and filled with disbelief. “protect me from what exactly, satoru?”

your gaze hardens as you stare at him, your lips trembling, trying to hold back the rising emotion. “from seeing you pretend to date someone else? from the truth? from feeling anything at all?”

your words cut through the air, and as you stand there, a mixture of hurt and frustration twisting inside you, you realize the weight of what he’s done. “how could you possibly think hiding this from me would make anything better?” your voice cracks slightly, but you swallow down the lump in your throat, refusing to break in front of him.

he winces at the sharpness of your tone, the pain in your voice making him ache. he knows how wrong he was, how stupid his reasoning sounds when confronted with the truth. he tries to find the right words to explain, to make you understand, but everything he thinks of sounds empty and weak.

“i… i thought if i didn’t tell you, you wouldn’t worry…” he answers, his voice low, almost a whisper. “i thought i could handle it… i thought i could keep you out of it…”

“i… i’m so sorry,” he falters, his eyes pleading with you, begging for your forgiveness. “i didn’t want to hurt you… i never wanted to hurt you. i just didn’t want you to worry. i wanted to keep you safe from the bullshit the media loves pushing, and i thought i could handle it on my own… but i was wrong, dollface. i was wrong about everything. please… please don’t hate me…”

your breath hitches, and despite trying to hold it back, the tears finally spill down your cheeks, hot and relentless. you stare at him, your voice trembling as you ask, “did you even think about me when you made that decision, satoru?”

each word carries the weight of your heartbreak, the betrayal sinking deep. your chest feels tight, your mind spinning as you search his face, his eyes—desperately looking for the love that was always there, the love that once felt so undeniable.

but now, standing before him, everything feels fragile, uncertain. “do you even love me?” you whisper, the question breaking you as it leaves your lips. the vulnerability in your voice is raw, and the silence that follows feels deafening.

you search his eyes for the truth, for something—anything—that can make this pain go away. but all you see is a man who hurt you, and you're not sure if he even knows how much.

the moment your question leaves your lips, you see the change in satoru's expression. it's as if the words struck him harder than any blow ever could. the haze of alcohol vanishes from his eyes, replaced by a raw, searing pain. for a split second, he looks shattered, but then, in an instant, his jaw tightens, and you can see anger flicker across his face.

“you are joking, right?” his voice is low, almost incredulous as he stares at you, his blue eyes sharper than before. “don’t you dare question my love for you.” his tone grows more intense, almost desperate, his hands reaching for you again. “i love you more than anything. more than anyone. everything i do, i do for you.”

his frustration simmers just below the surface, and you can feel it in his grip, his voice trembling not from the alcohol but from emotion. “how can you even ask me that after everything we’ve been through? i’ve given you everything i have—my heart, my life, my soul—and you think i don’t love you?”

he searches your eyes, his gaze pleading, desperate for you to understand, to believe him. but beneath that anger, you can still feel the weight of his guilt, the fear that you might not.

he takes another step towards you, closing the small gap between you. his hands tighten around your arms, his fingers digging into your skin as if he's afraid to let you go. “don’t you dare question my love for you,” he repeats, his voice low and intense. “i would never… i would never hurt you if i didn’t have to, dollface. you have to believe me.”

he looks at you, something between desperation and anger in his eyes, as if he’s begging you to see past the lie, to understand that he loves you more than anything in the world.

you've never seen him like this before—almost feral in his desperation to make you believe him. he's always been controlled, composed, but the thought of losing you has cracked that façade. he looks lost, raw, and desperate for you to see that he loves you, more than life itself.

your voice breaks as you softly ask, “then why are you doing this, satoru?” your words come out between the sobs, fragile and laced with the kind of pain that cuts deeper than any wound.

his grip tightens slightly, his fingers pressing into your skin, but you barely feel it, consumed by the flood of emotion. the tears continue streaming down your face, each one a reflection of the confusion, the heartbreak, the betrayal you feel.

“if you love me… why?” your voice is a whisper now, almost pleading, as if you're hoping for an answer that will make all of this hurt go away. you look up at him, searching for something, anything that will make sense of this, but all you see is the same mix of guilt and desperation in his eyes.

you want to believe him, to believe in the love you once thought was unshakable, but right now, all you can feel is the ache in your chest, the sharp sting of doubt that you never imagined you'd have to face.

“god damn it, dollface,” he mutters, his voice choked with emotion. “how can i make you believe me? how can i show you that i love you more than anything? i’d move mountains, i’d burn the world down…”

he leans forward, his forehead now touching yours, as he tries to get you to see the truth in his eyes. his voice is low and intense, his hands tighten around your arms, desperate to hold onto you, to make you understand how much he loves you.

the sight of your tears, the sound of your voice cracking with emotion, cuts through him like a knife. he reaches up to wipe away your tears, his touch gentle despite the intensity in his eyes. he can see the skepticism, the doubt in your eyes, and it only fuels his desperation.

“i would do anything for you, dollface,” he murmurs, his voice cracking. “anything. i’d give up everything, i’d burn the world down if it would make you believe me. just tell me what to do. tell me, and i’ll do it.”

you meet his gaze, searching his eyes for something—anything—that could make the pain go away. his words echo in your mind, the promise of doing anything for you, but it all feels so distant, unreachable. the hurt inside you runs too deep, and no matter how much you want to push it away, it keeps creeping in, clouding your thoughts.

your chest feels tight, and the silence stretches between you, heavy and suffocating. after a moment, your head falls against his chest, the steady beat of his heart only making the ache in yours worse. you stay like that, in the quiet, trying to think of what you want—what you need—but it’s too much. the hurt, the betrayal, it’s all too overwhelming.

with a shaky breath, you push him away gently, your hands trembling as you do. “i need some time,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, but firm. “i need to be alone for a while.”

his hands drop from your arms, his eyes widening slightly as you take a step back. you don’t meet his gaze again as you add, “i’ll sleep in the next room... for now.” and without waiting for a response, you turn and walk away, the weight of your decision pressing down on you with every step you take.

as the door closes behind you, the silence in the room is deafening, leaving only the sound of your heart pounding in your ears.

satoru stares at the door, his hand still outstretched, his mind struggling to process what just happened. the room feels empty without you in it, the silence is deafening, and the weight of what he’s done crashes down on him. he sinks onto the couch, his head in his hands, the full impact of your request—your need to be alone—hitting him with a force he didn’t expect.

he’s never been without you before, not like this. the thought of you being alone in the next room, your hurt, your pain... it’s almost too much to bear.

he sits like that, motionless, for what feels like hours, his mind a maelstrom of emotions. regret, guilt, worry, desperation—it’s all there, swirling together in a toxic mix that feels like it’s tearing him apart.

he thinks about going to you, of trying to make you understand, to apologize, to do anything to make things right. but deep down, he knows that you need this, that he needs to give you this time, even if it’s the hardest thing he’s ever had to do.

the front door creaks open, and you hear it close with a soft thud, followed by the sound of a car pulling away. you sit on the edge of the bed, your heart heavy as silence envelops the room. tears stream down your face, each drop a reminder of the pain from the night before. despite the exhaustion weighing down on you, sleep eludes you as the memories replay in your mind, the hurtful words echoing like a haunting refrain.

eventually, the weight of your emotions takes its toll, and you succumb to sleep, your body finally giving in to the fatigue that has consumed you.

when you awaken, the sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow in the room. glancing at the clock, you realize it’s nearly noon. the realization hits you hard—satoru hasn’t returned. a pang of hurt slices through you as you consider that he left without even saying goodbye.

as you move to the kitchen, a swirl of worry settles in your chest. where did he go? did he sleep well? did he eat anything? the questions multiply, and the thought of him with someone else makes your stomach churn. you can’t shake the image of him with utahime, the fear gnawing at you like a relentless predator.

you pour yourself a cup of coffee, the familiar scent providing a momentary comfort amidst the chaos of your thoughts. as you sip slowly, your mind races through countless scenarios—what if he’s out drinking again? what if he’s hurting? the worry overwhelms you, threatening to pull you under.

just as you’re lost in your thoughts, you hear the unmistakable sound of keys clattering onto the kitchen counter. your heart races as you blink, trying to process the moment. slowly, you turn your head, and there he is—satoru.

he stands in the doorway, his disheveled appearance a stark contrast to the confident man you know. his blue eyes, usually so vibrant, are ringed with redness and framed by dark circles, a testament to a sleepless night. his silver hair is tousled, sticking up in all directions as if he’s just rolled out of bed.

“satoru…” your voice comes out as a whisper, the mix of relief and apprehension washing over you. he shifts on his feet, looking vulnerable and exposed, the weight of unspoken apologies hanging heavily in the air.

“i… i’m back,” he says, his voice hoarse and shaky. he takes a hesitant step towards you, the air thick with tension as he searches your face for any sign of how you’re feeling.

you stand there, coffee cup cradled in your hands, unsure of how to react. the memories of the previous night flash through your mind—his hurtful act, your tears. despite the urge to run to him, to wrap your arms around him and forget everything, a part of you holds back.

satoru stands there, his heart thumping loudly in his chest as he watches the myriad of emotions play across your face. he looks weary, exhausted—physically, emotionally, mentally. the distance between you feels like an ocean, the air heavy with tension and unsaid apologies. he can see the war raging in your eyes, the hesitation—the doubt. and it hurts, more than he thought possible.

he takes another step forward, his hand reaching out slightly, hovering in the air as if he’s afraid to touch you, to cross that invisible line that’s been drawn between you.

he opens his mouth to speak, his mind racing through everything he could say—everything he wants to say. he wants to apologize, to explain, to make things right. he wants to hold you, to be held by you, to be close to you again. but the words seem to evaporate before they even reach his lips.

finally, he simply says your name. just your name. and the way it falls off his tongue is like a plea, a silent plea for you to understand, to forgive.

your heart races as you look up at him, his tired eyes filled with guilt and longing. the way he says your name—soft, almost reverent—feels like a plea for understanding, a desperate attempt to bridge the chasm that has formed between you. but despite the sincerity in his gaze, the memory of last night lingers, a painful reminder of betrayal.

when he takes your hand, the warmth of his touch sends a jolt through you. you want to feel comforted, to lean into him and forget the hurt, but the thought of him pretending to be with another girl cuts deep. the mere idea of it feels like a heavy weight pressing down on your chest, suffocating you.

“i… i don’t think i can stand it,” you whisper, your voice trembling as you struggle to keep your emotions in check. “seeing you with someone else in public... pretend to be all couple.”

satoru's heart clenches at your words, the pain in your voice slicing through him like a knife. he knew it was coming, knew you’d bring it up. it’s just one of the many things he’s been dreading this morning. but hearing it from you, seeing the look in your eyes, it makes everything so much more real, so much more painful.

he tightens his grip on your hand, his thumb tracing small circles on your skin, an attempt to soothe, to comfort. “i know,” he responds, his voice almost a whisper.

satoru's heart aches as he sees the hurt in your eyes, the pain mirrored in your expression. the weight of your words hangs heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the chasm that has grown between you. he takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself, to gather his thoughts.

“that’s why,” he begins, his voice barely above a whisper, “i spoke to the company earlier.” he pauses, searching your gaze for understanding. “they were furious.”

he cups your cheek gently with his free hand, the warmth of his palm a stark contrast to the cold reality of the situation. “i never wanted you to be caught in the crossfire of all this,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “the pressure… the expectations… i just thought it would be easier if we kept it private. but i see now how wrong that was.”

his thumb brushes softly against your skin, an attempt to convey the depth of his remorse. “i was so focused on protecting you that I forgot what you really needed—transparency, honesty. i wanted to shield you from the chaos, but instead, I just pushed you away.” satoru’s eyes search yours, filled with regret and determination. “i’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. i’ll fight for us, even if it means facing the wrath of the company. i want to be open about us, to show the world how much you mean to me.”

you blink in surprise, confusion flooding your mind as you process his words. “what do you mean you spoke to the company?” you ask, your voice wavering slightly. “wwhat did they say?”

but before he can respond, satoru turns on the tv, and your heart drops at the sight of him. he looks so different—disheveled, exhausted, eyes red-rimmed, as if he hasn’t slept in days. the conference is chaotic, the flashing lights of cameras blinding as reporters hurl questions at him, but he stands there, unwavering.

you stare at the screen, completely stunned. your eyes flicker from the television back to satoru, who stands quietly beside you. the image of him on the screen—a mess of disheveled hair, red eyes, and exhaustion—contrasts sharply with the composed, confident man you know. your heart pounds as you take in what’s unfolding before you: the rumors, the flashing cameras, his raw vulnerability on full display.

the conference is chaotic. journalists fire rapid questions at him, flashes of light bursting in quick succession, but satoru doesn’t waver. he remains steadfast, repeating only one thing—that the rumors aren’t true, that he’s had a girlfriend for years. you feel a lump in your throat, your chest tightening with emotion as the realization sets in. he did this… for you.

you turn to him, your voice shaky, barely above a whisper, “satoru… why you did all of this…?”

he doesn’t speak immediately, just watches you, his expression soft yet filled with a mixture of guilt and hope. slowly, he nods, his thumb still brushing gently over your hand. “i couldn’t let you think for one more second that i’d ever choose anyone else over you,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse from everything he’s been through. “i had to do something… anything to show you.”

your eyes well up with tears again, but this time it’s not from pain or anger. you’re overwhelmed, touched by how far he’s gone to try and fix this. “but you didn’t have to—” you start, but he cuts you off, shaking his head.

“yes, i did,” he insists. “i needed to prove it. not just with words, but with action. i’m not letting you walk away thinking i’d ever betray you like that.”

satoru's gaze is intense, his eyes fixed on you as he continues, “i couldn’t let you think for a second that i'd even entertain the thought of being with someone else. you mean everything to me, and i had to make a statement, a public one, because i can’t bear the thought of you doubting that. not for a second.”

“i know i messed up,” he continues, his voice filled with a mixture of regret and determination, “but i swear to you, i’ll never do anything to hurt you on purpose ever again.”

your heart races as you absorb his words, a whirlwind of emotions flooding your mind. the intensity of his gaze makes you feel both cherished and guilty. the weight of the situation settles heavily on your shoulders, and you can’t shake the feeling that you might be the cause of turmoil in his life.

you swallow hard, your throat dry as you find your voice. “but what about your series?” you ask, anxiety creeping into your tone. “what happens now? you just… put everything on the line for me?” the guilt gnaws at you, and you can't help but worry that your struggles might ruin his career. “satoru, i didn’t want this to affect you. i thought you’d want to keep things private to avoid backlash.”

the thought of him facing consequences for his public declaration sends a shiver down your spine. you look at him, your eyes wide with concern. “what did they say? are they going to fire you? or change the series because of this?” his silence hangs in the air, and you brace yourself for his answer, anxiety wrapping around your heart like a vise.

satoru’s eyes soften even further as he looks down at you, his hand still holding yours, but his grip has tightened slightly. he’s clearly nervous—nervous about what he has to say next, nervous about how you’ll react.

he takes a deep breath before responding, his voice measured and controlled. “i’m not getting fired, dollface.” his words, though relieving, don’t seem to quell the anxiety in your eyes. it’s clear that there’s more to the story, and he can see that you’re bracing for the worst.

satoru watches your expression shift from worry to confusion, then a flicker of understanding as he continues. “they just decided to kill me off in the middle of the second season,” he says, forcing a smile, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He chuckles lightly, trying to lighten the mood. “the writer never really liked me anyway.”

he sees the way your brows furrow, and his heart aches for you. he wants to ease your concerns, to show you that his world isn’t crumbling because of this. “it’s all part of the plan,” he adds, his tone playful, even if the situation isn’t exactly ideal. “maybe i’ll get a dramatic comeback. who doesn’t love a good resurrection arc, right?”

he cups your nape gently, his thumb brushing along your skin as he leans down to place a tender kiss on your forehead. “i’d do it a million times over for you, you know? i’d take the hit if it means you feel secure in my love. No one else matters more than you.”

as he pulls back slightly, he searches your gaze, hoping to see a hint of reassurance that you understand his intentions. he wants you to feel loved and protected, no matter the chaos that surrounds them.

your heart feels heavy as you gaze up at satoru, the weight of your worry settling deep in your chest. “are you sure about this?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “i don’t want to be the person who ruins your career.”

the concern in your eyes reflects the turmoil inside you, the fear that your feelings and insecurities could jeopardize everything he’s worked so hard for. you search his face for any sign of doubt, but all you find is unwavering determination.

satoru’s expression shifts, and he gently squeezes your hand, trying to convey his certainty. “dollface, you could never ruin my career,” he reassures you, his voice steady and calm. “if anything, you’re the reason i want to fight for it. i don’t care what they think or what the company says. my love for you is worth any backlash i might face.”

he leans closer, his forehead resting against yours, grounding you both in the moment. “i’d rather give it all up than let you feel like you’re the problem. you are my priority, and nothing will ever change that.” his blue eyes search yours, pleading for you to believe him, to trust that he’s all in.

your heart pounds in your chest as satoru’s words sink in, the rawness of his vulnerability hitting you like a tidal wave. his career, his reputation, his future—he’s willing to risk all of it for you, and the weight of that sacrifice leaves you reeling.

you look at him, the love and determination evident in his eyes, and you struggle to find the words to express the mixture of gratitude and guilt churning inside you. you don’t want to be the one causing ripples in his world, but his steadfast resolve makes it impossible to deny the intensity of his feelings.

satoru notices the turmoil in your expression, the way your brow furrows with guilt as you process his words. it cuts through him like a knife, the thought that you might still feel responsible for any turmoil in his life. he can’t stand to see you in pain, especially not when it’s tied to his choices.

he takes a deep breath, trying to ease your mind. “hey,” he says gently, tilting your chin up so your eyes meet his, “i’ve got a few offers for new series and movies lined up. i’m not in danger of losing everything, i promise. they’re just waiting for me to finish this one.”

a small, reassuring smile crosses his face, one that he hopes will lift some of the weight off your shoulders. “this is just a bump in the road, and i’m more than capable of handling it. what matters is you. i need you to know that I’ll always choose you, no matter what.”

he leans in closer, his eyes searching yours, filled with sincerity. “we’ll figure this out together, okay? you’re not a burden; you’re my motivation.”

your heart squeezes at satoru's words, your chest tightening with a mix of emotions. the guilt, the worry, the love—it's all flooding through you, leaving you feeling vulnerable and exposed. but in that vulnerability, you also see the depth of his devotion, his unwavering commitment to you.

“but… i don’t want you to choose,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “i don't want you to feel like you have to sacrifice your career... because of me.”

satoru hums softly at your words, the sound reverberating with warmth as he processes your concerns. with a gentle yet deliberate motion, he lifts you to sit on the counter, his hands steadying you as your thighs rest against the cool surface. he positions himself closer, his forehead resting against the counter beside your body, effectively caging you in.

“i can’t sacrifice you for my career either,” he says, his voice low and earnest, the intensity of his gaze locking onto yours. “you’re the one thing i won’t compromise on. i’d give up everything for you, even if it meant starting over. no job, no series, nothing could ever mean more to me than you.”

his expression is fierce, a combination of determination and vulnerability that makes your heart race. “so please, don’t worry about me. we’re in this together. we’ll figure it out side by side, and i’ll make sure you never feel like you’re standing in the way of my dreams.”

as you look into his eyes, the depth of his words washes over you, and a warmth spreads through your chest. you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing the reassurance of his presence. the feel of his warmth against you brings a sense of comfort, a connection that calms the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

“i just… i don’t want to be the reason for your struggles,” you murmur, your voice thick with emotion. “i care about you so much, satoru. i want you to shine, to succeed, and to be happy.”

holding him tightly, you feel the tension in his body ease as he leans into you, his breath mingling with yours. “i know we’ll figure this out together,” you whisper, your heart swelling with love. “but promise me you won’t carry this weight alone. we’re a team, right?”

satoru’s eyes flutter shut as he absorbs your words, a mixture of gratitude and relief washing over him. your unwavering support and love are like a balm on his weary soul, and he melts into your embrace, his head resting on your shoulder.

“together,” he affirms, his voice a whisper against your skin. “you’re not just my partner; you’re my foundation. you give me the strength to face anything, good or bad. we’re in this together, and no one, not even the company, can come between us.”

he lifts his head, his eyes studying your face. “you’re not a burden or an inconvenience, dollface. you’re my priority, my everything. i may have an image to uphold, but nothing is worth more than your happiness, your comfort. i’d take on the world for you if i have to.”

a flicker of vulnerability passes across his face. “just promise me that you’ll keep communicating with me. if you ever feel like you’re in my way or like you’re causing me trouble, i need—no, i want you to tell me, okay?”

a warm smile spreads across your face at his words, the sincerity in his eyes soothing the lingering doubts in your mind. you nod, feeling a rush of affection for him. “okay,” you mumble softly, your voice filled with reassurance.

a wave of visible relief washes over satoru’s face as you agree to his request. the tension in his body eases visibly, and he reaches up to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face.

“thank you,” he whispers, his hand resting on your cheek. “i just... i need to know that you’re okay, that we’re okay. that, even when things are messy, we’re still you and me. always.”

you nod, a soft smile still gracing your lips as you gently cup his cheeks in your hands. feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your palms, you lean in closer, your heart racing in anticipation.

satoru’s heart races at the touch of your hands against his cheeks, the warmth of your palms sending electric currents through his body. your lips meet his, a sense of peace washes over you, the world around you fading into the background. it’s a sweet, tender kiss, filled with unspoken promises and the depth of your feelings for him. as your lips meet his, he savors the taste of you, melting into the kiss like a man starved.

you pull back slightly, your foreheads resting against each other, and whisper, “always,” letting the word linger in the air between you, a vow that encapsulates everything you both cherish. it’s a simple word, but it carries the weight of your love, a reminder that no matter the chaos, you’ll always find your way back to each other.

satoru feels the weight of your promise like a gentle caress. a content smile spreads across his face as he brushes his nose against yours, a whisper of affectionate laughter escaping his lips.

“always,” he repeats quietly, his blue eyes sparkling with love. “me and you.”

[sttoru]

gojo satoru was a liar.

“you’re my first love.”

to say you were baffled by this new drop of information by your lover was an understatement. you’d been dating satoru for a month now—you were friends before that. you know his playful personality well enough to be able to look through all of his jokes and teasing comments.

“hah, tha’s a funny one.” you chuckle sheepishly as you continue to gaze at the sky. you were standing at the rooftop of a building after finishing a mission together, the beautiful sunset a welcomed change after the chaos.

there was no way satoru — the gojo satoru — hadn’t been in love with anyone before you. his good looks, his power, his status, his money. . . you were sure satoru had been with many women before you. he easily could if he wanted to after all.

“not joking.” satoru frowns as you don’t believe him. it wasn’t a frown out of frustration at your reaction, but rather in a sad pouty way. his slender fingers run over the knuckles of your hand which he held;

“i’m completely serious—only ever had eyes for you.”

the doubt in your eyes was like a dagger through his heart.

“could you please believe me?”

you turn your head and tilt it up to look at the white-haired man—the light illuminating his features perfectly. especially those glossy lips. those kissable glossy lips that seem to be a magnet, begging to meet yours.

there was no way. you? out of all people he could get. ‘yeah, right,’ is what you thought to yourself. though, you knew better than to doubt satoru when he spoke so seriously to you. that usual jokey tone nowhere to be found in his smooth voice.

a rare sight; satoru being completely serious. without bursting into laughter or making even the smallest of jokes.

“yeah. i believe you.” you nod, not knowing what to say to the unexpected information he decided to share. a silence, only interrupted by the distant noises of cars honking, makes you once again realise how serious this conversation had turned out to be.

“no, ya don’t. i can see it in your eyes, baby.”

‘baby’ — your heart skips a beat. you were the only one he has ever referred to with those adoring pet and nicknames. the only one satoru’s allowed himself to be vulnerable with.

satoru’s hand finds its way to the side of your face, fingertips scratching the skin near your ear gently as he guides your body towards his. like two unstoppable forces, your bodies press against one another, feeling like one.

“look at me,” your boyfriend mutters and you do as told, your doubts instantly clearing once the sheer adoration and love radiating from his magical blue eyes tell you enough. that’s enough evidence to support his first comment —

“mhm. that’s it.” satoru sighs softly and leans in to kiss you softly, his lips on yours making you dizzy in the best ways possible, his other hand on the small of your back to push you closer to him than you already were.

the kiss was the cherry on top.

once you pulled away, the love in his gaze hasn’t faded at all. in fact, the intensity of his love for you seemed to have increased. satoru was absolutely smitten with you.

he smiles gently once he sees the realisation hit you. that was all he wanted to achieve by saying what he said to you; the pure joy on your face once you come to know that you were indeed his first ever love. the first person he’s loved in all those years he’s lived;

“my pretty girl — my one and only.”

gojo satoru was anything but a liar.

[mintytealfox]

Identity V New Character Release

Identity Switch of Prospector (Norton Campbell) "The Fool's Gold" Poster Preview

The accident brought "golden good luck" to Norton Campbell, but such good luck could not repair his increasingly fragmented health. He fatigued easily and his lung disease became more serious, but this physical The pain on his body was nothing compared to the "infection" that spread from those tiny wounds. Whenever the "infection" begins, he will feel the fear of falling into the endless void. This fear became more and more obvious in the dark environment, as if he was in the bottom of the bottom of the mine that he had wanted to escape his whole life.

[marylxvrr]

" BENEATH THE SURFACE "

𐙚 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐀 — a ruthless criminal mastermind who commands fear and respect, yet becomes dangerously obsessive when it comes to you, willing to destroy anyone who dares to get too close, and ensuring you're always under his control . . .

𐙚 Trigger Warnings: Obsession, manipulation, possessiveness, threats of violence, and stalking.

College was draining enough without the added stress of trying to make ends meet. Working at the café helped pay the bills, but you were still behind on rent, your fridge was nearly empty, and your textbooks were secondhand disasters held together with duct tape.

You sighed as you wiped the counter for what felt like the hundredth time today. The café was relatively quiet for a Friday night, the usual rush replaced by the hum of soft jazz playing over the speakers.

The doorbell chimed, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You turned to greet the new customer, your smile practiced but polite. “Welcome! What can I get for you—"

Your words faltered when you looked up.

He was... striking. Impeccably dressed in a dark suit that screamed luxury, his presence was commanding and utterly magnetic. His sharp jawline and piercing eyes had an almost predatory gleam as they locked onto you.

“Just a coffee,” he said, his voice smooth as velvet. “Black.”

“Coming right up,” you said, quickly averting your gaze and focusing on the task at hand.

Something about him made your skin prickle. He didn’t look like your usual customer, and the way his eyes lingered on you felt... intense.

When you placed his cup on the counter, his fingers brushed against yours as he took it. The contact was brief, but it sent a chill down your spine.

“Thank you, Y/n,” he said, his lips curling into a small smile.

You froze. “How do you know my name?”

He chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee. “You’re wearing a name tag.”

Relief washed over you, and you gave a nervous laugh. “Right. Of course.”

But as he walked away to sit in the corner booth, a nagging feeling settled in your chest. You hadn’t been wearing your name tag today.

---

Over the next few weeks, he became a regular at the café. Always sitting in the same booth, always ordering the same coffee. He never stayed long, but his presence was impossible to ignore.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that he was watching you, though he never said much beyond polite small talk. It was unsettling, yet oddly flattering. A man like him—wealthy, confident, and undeniably attractive—paying attention to someone like you? It didn’t make sense.

Then, one night, everything changed.

---

The café was closing, and you were the last one left, cleaning up after another long shift. You were locking the front door when you noticed a sleek black car idling across the street.

Your stomach twisted uneasily as you hurried down the sidewalk, clutching your bag tightly.

“Y/n.”

You froze.

He was leaning against the lamppost, his suit as immaculate as ever, his eyes gleaming under the streetlight.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“I was waiting for you,” he said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Your heart pounded as he took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. “Why?”

“Because I’ve decided I don’t like the idea of you walking home alone,” he said, his tone calm but leaving no room for argument.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, trying to step around him, but his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist.

“You don’t understand, Y/n,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “There are people out there who would hurt you. People who wouldn’t think twice about taking advantage of someone as... vulnerable as you.”

“Let go of me,” you said, panic creeping into your voice.

His grip tightened slightly, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t get it, do you? I’m trying to protect you.”

“From what?” you demanded, struggling against his hold.

“From everyone. From this world that doesn’t deserve you.”

His words sent a chill down your spine. You stared at him, your fear growing as the realization dawned on you.

“You’ve been following me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I had to,” he admitted, his tone softening. “I had to make sure you were safe. Do you have any idea what it’s like to see you struggle? To know you’re barely scraping by while I could give you everything you’ve ever wanted?”

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. “You don’t even know me!”

“Oh, but I do,” he said, his free hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’ve watched you for months, Y/n. I know how hard you work, how kind you are even when the world doesn’t deserve it. You’re perfect.”

His words were like chains, wrapping around you and pulling you deeper into his control.

“You’re insane,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Maybe,” he said, his lips curling into a small, bitter smile. “But I won’t let anyone else have you.”

Before you could respond, the black car pulled up beside you. The door opened, and he gestured for you to get in.

“Don’t fight this, Y/n,” he said, his voice both pleading and commanding. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll give you a life worth living. But if you try to run... I can’t promise what I’ll do.”

Your heart pounded as you stared at him, your body frozen in fear.

“Get in the car,” he repeated, his tone firm.

And in that moment, you realized you had no choice.

---

[honourablejester]

I’m realising as I browse around that I really love lore when it comes to ttrpgs, games and game worlds. And by that I don’t mean I like to obsessively learn lists of dates and wars, and the names of leaders of factions, I mean …

I like learning weird, juicy details about the worlds of games. I like finding little nuggets that say things about the set-up and culture and assumptions of the world. I like finding fragments of ideas to hang whole story and character concepts off.

I love that in D&D 5e’s Spelljammer, the Astral Sea is full of the corpses of dead gods that you can fully sail up to in your ship. Just. Floating out there. Waiting for you to rock up to them.

I love that in Sunless Sea, the king of the drowned is the way he is because he fell in love with an eldritch sea urchin from space, and successfully married it. His niece is an angry sentient floating mountain whose mother is a goddess-mountain and whose father is a face-stealing humanoid abomination. This is fine and normal.

I love that in Starfinder, there are mysterious bubble cities in the surface of the sun that the church of the sun goddess discovered and cheerfully occupied despite having no idea who the hell built them or for what purpose.

I love that in Dishonored, the entire industrial revolution that has built the empire we’re in the midst of saving or destroying was built on the properties of whale oil harvested from eldritch tentacled whales that live half in the oceans and half in an eldritch void personified in the form of a weird-ass black-eyed shit-stirrer of a deity who was formed from a murdered and sacrificed child. And this is largely a background detail.

I love in the Elder Scrolls that the dwarves up and fucking vanished, as a race, at some point in history and absolutely nobody has any clue what happened to them or where they went, but their technology is so insane that ideas like ‘they time-travelled’ or ‘they erased themselves from existence’ are absolutely on the table.

I love that in Numenera, so many incredibly advanced civilisations have risen and fallen on this world that it’s absolutely littered with bonkers science fiction artefacts that have caused the current medieval-esque society built over top of them to develop in bizarre ways, and also you can find a mysterious artefact that absolutely baffles and delights your character, but that you the player will fully recognise as a slightly-more-advanced thermos flask.

I love that in Fallout, an irradiated post-nuclear apolocalypic hellscape, there’s a cult that worships the god of radiation as they have come to understand it, and they are mysteriously immune to radiation with absolutely no explanation whatsoever. They’re not ghouls, the usual result of fatally irradiated humans with some resistance, they’re perfectly normal humans who can somehow just tank rads all damn day. It could be a mutation, but Lovecraftian gods apparently do also fully exist in this setting, so it’s also possible that maybe they were on to something with this Atom thing.

I love that in Heart The City Beneath, there’s a mass transit train system that they tried to hook up to the eldritch beating god-thing buried under the city so that they could metaphysically chain the stations together more easily, which went horrifically and metaphysically wrong in entirely predictable fashion, and now there’s a whole order of train-knights who have to keep people safe from the extradimensional weirdness magnet the network has become.

That, and all the fantastic little details you can stumble across. There’s a biotech augmentation in Starfinder called an angler’s light that gives you a little angler-fish bioluminescent antenna on your forehead, and it was developed by asteroid miners who needed light but also both hands free for work. In Dishonored there’s a festival that everyone pretends is outside of time so nothing you do during it can be held against you. There’s a god of snuffed candles mentioned in a single line from Heart The City Beneath who has pacifist cannibal priests, and that is literally all the information you get on him.

While things like the history and geography and timeline of a world do also fascinate me, I’m not really here to memorise stuff like that. I’m here to find weird little nuggets of information and worldbuilding and delight in them. Give me funerary customs and weird myths and oddly specific circumstances and baffling little objects and absolutely bonkers cosmological implications. Give me the corpses of dead gods, and aesthetic movements with highly specific backstories, and bureaucratic fuck-ups of titanic scale, and mysterious things that seem to break all other rules of your setting with absolutely no explanation because people in-universe have no fucking clue how they work either. Why are the Children of Atom immune to radiation without ghoulifying? Not a clue, but Confessor Cromwell has been cheerfully standing in that irradiated pond that kills the player character with about 10 minutes of exposure for the last year and he’s still absolutely fine.

I just. I really love lore. I like my settings to have some meat in them, some juicy details to dig into, some inexplicable elements to have fun trying to explain. Particularly that last bit. I feel like a lot of people when building worlds feel like the rules have to be absolute and everything has to have an explanation, but nah. Putting some weird shit in makes everything immediately feel bigger, more real, because we don’t have even half an idea of how our world truly works, there’s always something we just don’t fully understand yet, and you can put that in a fictional world too. Some mysteries, some contradictions, some randomness, some weirdness. There’s a line, obviously, this depends on execution, but a little bit of mystery really does help.

Lore is awesome. And weird lore is even more so. Heh.

[grapejuicenharry]

Angel (Part 3)

Harry and Y/N have sex for the first time.

warnings: Pure smut, 18+

read part 4 of angel here

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆ . ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶. ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

It was an ordinary Thursday evening, and Harry and Y/N were sprawled out on the plush carpet of Harry's living room.

A laptop sat between them, books open, and both were supposedly working on their assignments-at least Harry was.

His brow furrowed in concentration as his skilled fingers danced over the keyboard, his glasses perched delicately on his nose.

Meanwhile, Y/N found herself staring at him, absently nibbling the end of her pen. She couldn't help but wish it was something else in her mouth. For the past few days, she had been feeling extremely horny— maybe it was because her period was close, or maybe it was just because of Harry. She didn't know, but her thoughts had been consumed with him, ogling him whenever she got the chance. She admired his mouth, his toned biceps, and the way his thighs flexed under his tiny shorts, offering a clear view of the tiger tattoo during their dinner breaks. It was a sight that never failed to send heat rushing through her body. She didn't know when or how it happened, but she found herself scooting closer, desperate to capture his attention.

Suddenly, she leaned forward, tilting his face toward hers and placing the softest kiss on his lips. It took him a moment to process what had just occurred. "Kiss me, please," Y/N murmured, batting her lashes at him. Who was he to deny the request of his precious angel? She looked so innocent, her lips pouting adorably, drawing him in like a magnet.

He leaned closer, taking her bottom lip between his and sucking it gently, eliciting the most sexiest sound from her lips in response. It was a sound that ignited a spark within him, sending his heart racing. The position soon became uncomfortable, and he gently pulled away to sit up. Y/N opened her eyes, her half-hearted protest dying in her throat as she saw Harry inviting her to settle on his lap.

Without hesitation, she climbed onto him, straddling his waist as she pushed his glasses atop his head. She adored how sexy he looked in them, but they often got in the way. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and they both leaned in for another kiss. Harry's hand drifted to her jaw while the other rested on her waist, as if trying to mold their bodies together.

What started as a sweet peck quickly escalated into a heated mess of tongues and mouths. Both groaning in each other’s mouth. Y/N felt alive, every nerve ending tingling as their connection deepened. They lost track of time, completely immersed in each other, panting heavily as they rested their foreheads against one another, breathless. 

"Harry, I want this," Y/N whispered breathlessly, the words tumbling from her lips with an urgency that surprised her. Harry opened his eyes in confusion, trying to contemplate what she was referring to. Then it struck him,

Oh, oh...

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Y/N had been thinking about it for a while now. She felt safe, so safe with Harry, and wanted to take their relationship further by having sex with him. She knew he was a virgin as well, just like her. She understood the weight of this moment, the significance it held for both of them. She knew how important intimacy was to Harry and wanted him to feel safe and comfortable too. So they discussed it a few days ago, where she asked him if he ever wanted to have sex with her.

He'd smiled at her question, trying to keep the blush creeping up his cheek at bay, nodding his head, rubbing the back of his neck, and whispering, "Yes, I want to, whenever you are ready."

But in that moment hearing her say it, his heart was racing. His chest felt warm, almost buzzing, as he looked into her eyes. The way she wanted him, with that same vulnerable openness, made him feel understood in a way he'd never felt before. The anticipation swirled between them, palpable and electric, igniting the air around them.

He then asked her, cheeks red with blush and embarrassment, if she thought it was weird that he was still a virgin. Her heart clenched at the thought of Harry feeling insecure—she hadn’t realized he saw himself that way. Harry went on to explain that it was all new to him; she was his first girlfriend, and he’d never been interested in random hookups, so he hadn’t had the chance to be with anyone before. She quickly reassured him that she understood and admitted she actually liked knowing he hadn’t been with anyone else. The thought of Harry saving that part of himself made her feel a little warm. 

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Harry scooped her up in his arms, his confidence surging as he rushed to his bedroom. She yelped in surprise and laughed as he gently tossed her onto the soft bed. The laughter filled the air, mingling with the tension that hung between them. Climbing up beside her, Y/N looked at him, her expression serious. "Wait, do you want this, Harry?"

His heart warmed at her care, knowing she wanted him to feel comfortable too; he loved her more than anything in this world. "Of course I do," he reassured her, though the flutter of nerves danced in his stomach.

"We can do it another time if you're not ready, Harry," Y/N whispered, running her fingers through his hair while he was momentarily lost in thought.

"No, no, I promise I want this, baby,"

Harry murmured, determination shining in his eyes. She still looked uncertain, so he gently held her face and kissed her. "Relax," he whispered against her lips, trailing soft, wet kisses down her jaw and toward her neck. All thoughts drifted from her mind as she surrendered to the bliss of his mouth, instinctively relaxing and arching her back. They both peeled off their shirts, leaving her in her tiny shorts and him in his boxers.

Harry cupped her breasts, gently rolling a nipple between his fingers and leaning down to suck on it, his moans sending vibrations through her body. Her back arched, fingers tangled in his hair, and her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, feeling his hard length grinding against her clothed heat. The sensation was intoxicating, and she felt the heat pooling in her belly, a familiar ache of desire that she had longed for.

He knew how sensitive her nipples were-always so responsive-and he loved how they perked up whenever she was aroused.

He made a mental note to make her cum just by sucking on them one day, but for now, he wanted to taste her.

Kissing his way down to her navel, he tugged off her tiny shorts, leaving her in delicate lace panties. Pressing gentle kisses against her covered center, he dragged his nose along her slit, then hooked the panties aside with his teeth, kissing up her exposed folds and drawing her small nub into his mouth, sucking on it tenderly. 

"Oh, fuck... Harry, oh my god," Y/N moaned, her eyes closed as pleasure built in her belly, her vision clouding white. Her hand threaded through Harry's hair, tugging lightly, and she could tell he liked it by the way moans slipped from his mouth. She squirmed and writhed, her mind overwhelmed, especially as his hand drifted up to squeeze one of her nipples. Her other hand found the second, giving it the same attention. 

Harry then slid a finger inside her heated center, driving her wild. Her hips lifted instinctively due to the sensation, but Harry placed a hand on her hips to keep them down. He was sucking on her clit, pumping his fingers in and out of her, stretching her, while his other hand drifter upwards to play��with her nipples. It was all too much for her. She was so close-almost there-but she stopped him, wanting to finish together, with him inside her.

Gently, she tugged on his hair, "No, I want to cum with you... please." Harry immediately slid her panties off, Y/N lifting her hips to help, and then his boxers followed, leaving them both bare.

"Shit, Y/N, I don't have a condom. I didn't think..." Harry murmured, looking down at her with concern.

"Hey, it's okay, I'm on the pill," Y/N reassured him, placing a gentle hand on his cheek. She could see his nervousness-he wanted everything to be perfect, for both of them.

He nodded, curls bouncing and falling over his forehead. She pulled him closer by the neck, kissing him deeply. Harry stroked himself a few times before guiding his tip to her entrance, letting it slide against her arousal. Y/N shivered at the contact. Gently, he eased just the tip inside while their mouths stayed connected, both of them letting out soft whimpers as he slowly pushed in further. Y/N closed her eyes, wincing slightly at the stretch, and he immediately stopped, looking at her with concern.

"Are you okay? Should I stop, baby?" Harry asked, his voice filled with worry. 

"No, please keep going. I'm okay, I promise," she whispered back, reassuring him. To ease her, Harry started rubbing tight circles on her clit, and the discomfort quickly turned into deep, pleasurable moans as he began to move, thrusting in and out, their bodies finding a rhythm together.

Y/N had never felt this full before; it was unlike anything she'd ever experienced.

The slight pinch had melted into pure pleasure, and she felt like she was floating on clouds, her mind filled with pink and white stars. Words slipped from her mouth, incoherent and overwhelmed, while her moans grew louder as he moved, hitting all the right spots. He was so big, filling her snugly, warmth radiating from him, and he felt like he was made to fit inside her, perfectly molded just for her.

Harry whimpered from the sensation, burying his face in her neck and gently biting, sucking the soft skin there.

"Harry, I'm close," Y/N murmured.

"Yeah?" he whispered back. "Look at me, baby. Look at me when you cum-l want to see you." His voice was firm, laced with desire. Y/N opened her eyes, meeting his darkened gaze, lust pouring from him. Suddenly, the tension in her belly snapped, and she climaxed as he rubbed her clit faster. She clung to him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, grounding herself as the waves of her orgasm ebbed.

Moments later, he was right there with her, his breathing ragged. "Y/N, Y/N, holy fuck... fuck," Harry chanted, burying his face in her neck as his own release took over, spilling warmth inside her. She could feel him, his cum slowly dripping down her thigh as they stayed like that, tangled together, breathing heavily.

They held each other close, his weight resting on top of her, still connected and completely bare. Minutes, maybe hours passed, neither of them sure, but they stayed like that, tangled together, breathing heavily.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Harry slowly began to pull out, and Y/N winced at the sensation, his careful movements showing his tenderness towards her. He then gently scooped her up, carrying her to the bathroom and making sure she peed and cleaned both of them. While she was busy, he quickly changed the sheets in the bedroom, wanting them both to rest on fresh linens afterward.

When she returned, they climbed into bed together, pulling each other close under the warm covers. Harry wrapped his arms around her, Y/N smiled, looking up at Him, her eyes soft with emotion. She reached up, gently tracing her fingers along his jawline, and whispered, “I love you, Harry.”

His face lit up, and a warm smile spread across his lips as he gazed down at her. “I love you too, baby,” he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity. He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a moment.

With their hands intertwined, they settled into each other’s arms, Harry continuing to whisper sweet words in her ear until sleep overtook them. They drifted off together, both feeling as though they were exactly where they belonged.

[littlelamy]

halloween w/ the camerons: soft!rafe x reader

the kildare halloween party was in full swing, the air thick with the haze of smoke machines and the beat of bass-heavy music. rainbow lights flickered over a sea of costumes, each more elaborate than the last. In the middle of this chaotic celebration, rafe cameron stood out, not just for his princely costume but for the magnetic energy he exuded.

you had turned heads the moment you walked in, your sexy rapzunel princess costume drawing the eyes of everyone in the room. the mini skirt barely skimmed your thighs, the tight corset accentuating every curve.

rafe, dressed as flynn rider, was both amused and captivated by your outfit. his costume was spot-on— a brown leather vest over a white, slightly open shirt, paired with dark pants and worn-in boots that gave him that roguish charm. a satchel hung casually over his shoulder, completing the look. he looked every bit the daring adventurer, though his usual smirk held a hint of something more appreciative tonight.

you made your way through the crowd, each step accentuating the playful sway of your hips. rafe’s eyes followed you, and when you finally reached him, he took your hand with a roguish grin. “my sexy little princess,” he purred, his voice low and intoxicating. “shall we dance?”

with a nod, you let him guide you to the center of the dance floor. the crowd parted for you both, as if acknowledging that the real show was about to begin. rafe pulled you close, his hand resting on your lower back, the other entwined with yours.

the music was a sultry rhythm that seemed to synchronize perfectly with the beat of your hearts. rafe's movements were fluid and sensual, with every step calculated to draw you even closer. you felt the heat radiating from his body, and it only fueled the desire within you.

you moved against him with a confidence that matched his own. your hips swayed in time with the music, and rafe’s hand traveled up your lower back, his fingers teasing the edge of your crop top. his touch was possessive but gentle, sending shivers down your spine.

“is this how you dance with all your princesses?” you teased, your voice just above a whisper.

“only the ones who turn me on,” rafe replied, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. his breath was warm and intoxicating, making your pulse quicken.

you tilted your head back, meeting his gaze. the intensity in his eyes was matched by the mischievous smirk on his lips. “well, lucky for you, i’m here to make sure you don’t have to lose your mind alone.”

as you pressed closer, you felt his hands move lower, his grip tightening just enough to make you gasp. the friction between you was electric, each movement enhancing the seductive dance you were performing. rafe’s lips found the curve of your neck, his kisses soft and deliberate, sending waves of pleasure through you.

you responded in kind, your hands roaming over his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath the fabric of his costume. the music seemed to fade into the background as your world narrowed to the space between you. every beat of the song matched the pounding of your heart, each rhythm a reminder of how perfectly you fit together.

rafe’s lips traveled to your shoulder, his tongue tracing a teasing line along your skin. you moaned softly, unable to suppress the sounds of your pleasure. his touch was both gentle and demanding, a perfect balance of control and abandon.

“you’re driving me crazy,” he murmured against your skin. “i can’t get enough of you.”

you smiled, the words only spurring you on. With a playful twist of your hips, you forced him to adjust his stance, pulling him even closer. his hands gripped your waist firmly, his fingers digging in just enough to make you shiver. the music swelled, and the dance became more intense, more urgent.

the way rafe moved with you was sensual. his breaths came faster, his grip on you tightening as if he were afraid you might slip away. You could feel his desire building, his body pressed so close to yours that it felt like a second skin.

“do you know what you’re doing to me?” he asked, his voice a low growl.

you met his gaze, the heat in your eyes matching his own. “i think I do.”

rafe pulled you against him, his lips crashing down on yours in a passionate kiss. the world around you ceased to exist, leaving only the sensation of his mouth moving over yours, the taste of him lingering on your tongue.

as you broke the kiss, you rested your forehead against his, both of you breathless. the intensity of the moment had left you both in a daze, but neither of you wanted to let go.

“you’re incredible,” rafe said, his voice full of awe.

you smiled, your fingers tracing a line down his chest. “and you’re my prince charming.”

he chuckled, the sound a mix of satisfaction and desire. “let’s keep this dance going, then.”

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0

[luviwon]

BEACH SEX | y.jw

kinktober day 20! back to the masterlist here!

☆ ex boyfriend!jungwon x ex girlfriend!reader

; going on a trip with your highschool group of friends sounds all perfect until you find out your ex will be there too. and you feel annoyed about it, that until you end up on top of him with your swimming suit buried somewhere in the sand. “we don’t need to tell your new boyfriend about it, sweetheart”

genre ; smut

taglist ; @blushbunini @moonpri @blackp1nkfan @mitmit01 @pasteltheghost16 @harukayoiiiiiiizzz @mlywon @lhspeachie @seraphira @kaykay11sworld @winuvs @yuniesluv @shhth @rizzki09 @mylettterstoyou @d-dilemma @aanniikkas @hooneyz-luver @laylasbunbunny @nyfwyeonjun @minniesverse @rikinatorr

a desperate whisper slipped from your lips, “please, jungwon…” your voice barely steady, craving his touch. he tilted his head, a wicked smile spreading as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “oh? begging already?” he murmured, letting his fingers trail slowly along your thigh. “i haven’t even started with you yet.” he chuckled softly, his voice thick with teasing intent, making every second feel like delicious torture.

“you’re already trembling,” he whispered, lips grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear. “what will happen when i actually touch you?”

he leaned closer, forehead resting gently against yours, his breath warm and steady as his gaze held yours, intense and unyielding. his lips hovered just above yours, close enough that you could feel the magnetic pull between you, yet still maddeningly out of reach. “tell me,” he murmured, voice a low, rough whisper, “what is it you want… from me?”

with a sly smile, jungwon’s fingers slipped from your thigh, trailing up your side with a deliberate slowness that made you catch your breath. “not saying anything?” he whispered, the words heavy with teasing. “maybe you’re enjoying this more than you’d like to admit.”

his touch was too intoxicating. the gentle rhythm of the waves behind you seemed to sync with your heartbeat, pounding in your chest as he leaned in closer again.

“let’s keep this our little secret,” he murmured, his voice a mix of mischief and softness. “no one else has to know, especially your boyfriend”

your boyfriend didn’t even matter in this moment anymore, as the only worry at the time was not to be caught by anyone, lying down in the sand along with your ex partner, a lot closer to each other than you should have been. not to mention the absence of your bikini, thrown somewhere away on the beach, since jungwon did not like to see you covered.

he was in love with your body and he needed to see in its best form: exposed.

maybe that’s why he found it so hard to keep his hands away, exploring every inch of your body now as you lied beneath him. he moved his knee higher, only to tease you lightly before pressing his lips against yours in a passionate kiss, one that has been wanted from both sides for the whole trip.

his tongue moved slowly inside your mouth, not in the way that he wasn’t familiar with the place, but in such a manner that he could remember all the previous moments spent together. that’s why his tongue was not enough to bring him all the memories back so his hand helped him out by wrapping it around your breast, fitting just right inside his palm.

you arched your back when you felt his cold touch against your heated chest, unable to control yourself. but you didn’t want him to back off, even though it was so wrong to keep going, to betray your boyfriend on the holiday you reassured him so much to be just a simple outing with old friends. and it felt like jungwon almost read your thoughts when he whispered

“he doesn’t fuck you like i do, does he?” although more of a rhetorical question, the way he said these words sent a shiver down your body, gulping in response. he was right, but it’s not like you could just agree on that and offer him that satisfaction.

even though you really wanted him to satisfy you all night.

jungwon waited no longer, moving his body lower down, using his tongue to draw a line from your neck, between your tits, all the way down to your abdomen, and when he reached your private, he gave you a last wink that went away with his head between your legs. you spread them apart, locking them around his neck and your hands getting lost in his curly hair. he didn’t even start, but you were just getting ready.

you remember how fucking well he does it.

“i missed this so much” he whispered before sticking out his tongue and licking your pussy carefully, not missing a spot. he was gentle, attentive, focusing on you and you only, recalling well what makes you feel good, besides him. he moved onto your clit, offering it more attention than usually because he knew how sensitive it is and how easily he can make you cum just by overstimulating it, making you feel sore in pleasure.

so that’s what he did, wrapping his lips around your clit to suck on it hungrily, like it was his favourite dessert. you pulled his hair harder, holding your whining back because it wasn’t right to moan his name. no, especially not here, and yet, it was so risky but it felt so… rewarding. looking down at the scenery between your legs, a messy hair boy with nothing on but a pair of boxers. and probably a very evident bulge that you couldn’t wait to take care off soon enough.

his mouth felt incredible around your pussy, like heaven on earth and he seemed to enjoy it as much as you did, moaning softly, hot breathe hitting your wet cunt. “let me fuck you right here baby” he asked on a puppy voice, giving you the eyes you couldn’t say no to.

but you had to control yourself, to be rational and understand how dangerous and wrong this whole thing w-

“please fuck me”, you replied, biting your lower lip. he found it so attractive that he let out a soft fuck and got back on his knees, pushing down his boxers and throwing them somewhere away, close to where your swimming suit must have been buried.

you couldn’t help but stare at his cock, at the way it just stood up before you, waiting to stretch you out again, better than any other guy could. because he was so thick and long, it gave you flashbacks from before and how it reached your stomach with each thrust. you needed that again, and you needed that right now, so a bit of a surprise to jungwon, you pushed him down on the sand and got on top of him, legs on each side of his body.

jungwon smirked, feeling your hips and watching your tits hanging so prettily for him, he wished he had a pen to write his name down on them. maybe you had a new boyfriend now, but you belonged to him still. you were his. and that’s why you wanted to remind yourself of that by positioning his cock close to your hole.

you felt a sense of unease again, maybe it wasn’t right after all. like yeah, feeling jungwon inside you was all you could dream of tonight but how would your partner feel? and how jungwon couldn’t give a fuck about him, he took the initiative by pulling you down on his cock, his length wrapped around by your tight walls, making him close his eyes and throw his head back, biting down his lips to hold back any sounds.

that’s how good you felt on him.

you cried out when his whole dick went inside you, falling on his chest, and he hugged you tight in his arms before thrusting into you. you thought you could ride him already but remembering how long it took for you to adjust to his cock every time you had sex before was indeed, a good memory.

“j-jungwon” you moaned out his name, unbothered by who might pass by and who might see you getting fucked by jungwon. even though the sound of that was quite hot. the ocean breeze felt chilly and the moon was shining, while your bodies caused clapping sounds to fill the silence of the whole beach.

with each whine of yours, the boy moved faster inside to overwhelm you even more, seeing how you roll your eyes back with each thrust. you tried to get away from his chest and give riding another try, but grinding on him one single time made your legs shake like crazy, your head back to listening to his heartbeat.

“baby, are you still on birth control?” jungwon whispered into your ear, his movements becoming rather precise and deep than just fast. he wanted to hit every single spot inside you, reaching your cervix. “mhm”, you groaned, scared to open your mouth as you were a whole mess right there, trembling and whining.

“perfect”, he whispered again. he lifted your head up, making you look at him. his eyes looked so beautiful in that bare light, and his lips so magnetic you couldn’t resist but press yours against them, feeling not only his taste inside your mouth but also a warm liquid filling up your hole. you moaned inside his mouth, his hands holding your ass to keep you in place.

he didn’t want you to leave, he wanted you to stay a bit longer, with his cock inside your cunt. it felt a bit too much like…home.

“i hope you’ll leave that loser now”

[angelssmvse]

𝙂𝙊𝙊𝘿 𝙂𝙄𝙍𝙇𝙎 𝙂𝙊 𝙏𝙊 𝙃𝙀𝘼𝙑𝙀𝙉

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ 𝙁𝘼𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍 𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙀 𝙈𝘼𝙔𝙃𝙀𝙒 𝙓 𝙁𝙀𝙈 !𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍 𝜗𝜚 (smut)

𝜗𝜚 𝙎𝙐𝙈𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙔 The ordinary girl, always abiding by the rules—so innocent and pure. But sometimes, stepping outside those boundaries can be a good thing, can't it? And Father Charlie is about to show you how. (P.S. he’s gentle with you)

𝜗𝜚 𝘼/𝙉 So recently I made this edit and oh God I had this urge to write a smut — and please feel free to send me any requests. Enjoy, angels<3 ( click here to watch the edit )

𝜗𝜚 𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎 smut! minors DNI. This narrative contains mature themes and explicit content, including strong language, depictions of violence, adult situations (smut), and elements of both humor and tenderness. Reader discretion is advised.

It's been months since you and Father Charlie began talking and spending time together. Your conversations often revolve around beliefs, modern society, and even psychology. Yet, what intrigues you both the most is uncovering each other's thoughts and understanding what truly goes on in each other's minds.

You always saw him as the mysterious type of man—the kind you’d chase despite knowing he’d probably hurt you.

And then there was you. God, he hated you. To him, you were almost angelic, divine in every sense, as though you’d barely sinned a day in your life. Your eyes held a magnetic pull, and your presence was undeniably comforting.

He was a mess, yet somehow, you managed to understand him—at least in part—and soothe his anger.

“The desires of the flesh do not come from the Father…but from the world,” Father Charlie intones, his voice steady as he reads from the Bible in his hands. “But in the end,” he continues, setting the Bible down on the nearest surface, “we are all…” — “Sinners,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “So fuck it,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear.

In an instant, you find yourself pressed down onto his bed, his body over yours, his lips claiming yours in a fervent kiss. The kiss deepens, the atmosphere grows charged, your heart pounds, and your bodies remain entwined.

He gently positions himself as he slowly begins to move, you arch your back towards him in pleasure, softly moaning holding his defined shoulders as your nails dig into the skin causing it to bleed. He growls taking your wrists and holding them tight to keep you still “Father-“ you whimper, he shuts you up by kissing you, your tongues dancing as he quickens up his pace.

Father Charlie felt your climax building up and your walls tightening around him, “Fuck…” he whimpers in pleasure drowning himself in the crook of your shoulder; kissing your soft skin and leaving trails of love marks behind as he goes on.

Tears began to fall down your cheeks, your legs tight around him letting you come. He finishes and collapses on top of you, his lips brushing softly against your skin. Your hands, now free, move to the back of his head as you gently play with his hair. "Hey now," he chuckles, lifting himself slightly to meet your gaze.

You both savored every moment—every second spent together. But was it wrong…this feeling?

Copyright © angelssmvse 2024 — I own only this story; please do not copy nor translate without permission or proper attribution. I give credit for the character Father Charlie Mayhew from the series "Grotesquerie" by Ryan Murphy. This is the only platform where I have published the story.

[chrollogy]

A LOVER’S UNWRITTEN SCRIPT

— kuroo tetsurou x f!reader

syn: A-list actor, Kuroo Tetsurou—your ex lover—is still shamelessly in love with you. It doesn’t help how the intimate scenes you film together feels like a trip down to memory lane where you held each other’s hearts in the past. Despite Kuroo’s best efforts to keep the bubbling feelings at bay, he shamelessly bares the truth that lay inside his heart during a private rehearsal with you—in hopes to rekindle the once passionate relationship you two shared.

18+ MDNI; actor au, ex-lover!kuroo, implied breakup, mutual pining, exes to lovers, light angst, fluff, kuroo is horrendously down bad for reader (pathetically, even), explicit smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, pet names (baby, temptress, my love), not beta read.

word count: 4.8k

notes: weeeee just a lil gift for my dear friend @avatarofstars whom i promised to write a kuroo oneshot for hehe !! enjoy :> divider: cafekitsune.

mimi approved: “he [kuroo] folded like a wet napkin.”

The air was thick, and suffocating, as if it had its large hands wrapped around your neck, blunt fingertips digging into your flushed skin as each second passed, each thundering heartbeat that knocked against your chest. Caged in between familiar arms atop the soft mattress, your gaze was met with bare skin—a beautifully sun kissed chest—peeking beneath an ivory evening shirt with a few buttons sinfully undone.

Kuroo.

An icy shiver kissed along the length of his spine as your digit sensually traced the dips of his collarbones, and down, down, down to the valley of his chest until it's halted by a fastened button. Breath hitching at the eye contact, his hooded gaze clouded with nothing but pure carnal desire, pools of endless hazel reeling you into wicked temptation as his stare lingered on your own a little too long for your liking.

And as Kuroo slowly inched in, your heart skipped a beat or two, the musky scent of his cologne driving all five of your senses up the wall, his evening shirt bunched beneath your very palm.

Fluttering your eyes shut, the mattress shifted beneath the weight of his palms as the tip of his nose found your own, lightly rubbing it against each other—teasing the intimacy of your faces. God, what a tease.

Mere centimetres apart from your lips, the tension in the air steadily climbed to its peak as Kuroo’s hot breath interlaced with your own, locked in an endless dance before being whisked away as he seals your lips together in a passionate kiss.

Familiar. It was all too familiar—the movement of his lips, the heavy breath that planted butterfly kisses all over your face, the miniature sounds that slipped past his mouth, the plushness of it.

Vivid memories burned into your eyelids at the familiarity of the kiss, recounting the bittersweet past that you once shared with the ravenette—the sweet exchanges, the ‘i love you’s’, the countless nights spent tangled in each other’s bodies under the moonlit skies.

A low groan stirred from Kuroo’s chest as he eagerly pressed his face further, the back of your head flushed against the ivory pillow beneath as the soft smacks of your lips together filled the thick atmosphere of the room. It made him dizzy, his body eager for more, more, more as the cloud he rode ascended higher.

Before Kuroo could brazenly slip his hot tongue past your lips to take it up a notch, the director’s sharp voice sliced through the sultry atmosphere, bitterly reeling him back to reality—as if his whole body had been drenched in icy waters,

“Cut!”

It felt like your bodies were mere magnets attracted to one another because it took all of Kuroo’s sanity to hesitantly pull away from you—from your lips—giving ample distance between both your bodies, a daring contrast to a few seconds ago. Lips parted, and chest heaving to satiate his lungs with much needed oxygen, Kuroo took the time to ground himself; to remind himself that, in fact, this was all just an act. Nothing was real.

A breeze of coolness engulfed your skin at the lack of your co-star’s body warmth, a tinge of loneliness rooting itself as you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. Reality slowly settled in your skin, slowly becoming aware of the amount of crew, and equipment around—harsh lights flooded from the side, the view of the boom mic hovering above the bed, the camera that captured each scene.

Kuroo couldn’t hear a damn thing the director was saying over the harsh pounding of his heart, mind plagued with endless thoughts of you—it was always you. No one else.

Sure, this was all for the upcoming movie the both of you starred in but he couldn’t erase the fact that everything felt so normal, like it was meant to be. It pained his yearning heart that outside these calculated scenes, you were cold, and distant, carefully treading around him as if you were surrounded by a field of landmines—one wrong move, and everything burns to ashes.

At the end of the day, Kuroo couldn’t blame you, he was the one who initiated the break up in the first place. Five years ago, you were both aspiring actors under the same agency, auditioning for supporting roles left, and right to get your respective names out in the film industry—to get noticed by your unique talents. Somewhere down the line, Kuroo prioritised his career, leaving you to man the boat in the staggering relationship until one day, he finally saw fit to break it off.

A long time has passed since then, now, the two of you were illustrious actors that became household names through sheer talent, starring in countless award winning films. You, and Kuroo only saw each other through prestigious award shows, and buzzing premiere nights but nothing more than a few distant glances here, and there. And it was certainly both your first time to land a romantic leading role together.

The first time Kuroo properly saw you again was during table work for script analysis. Bare faced, clad in the simplest clothes, and a navy blue hat over your head—it had his heart shamelessly hammering away despite the awkward greeting you both exchanged. Safe to say, the ravenette had his hazel gaze locked on you the entire time, stuttering over his words the entire time while a deep crimson blush stained his sun kissed cheeks.

You were different—attractively different. The way you carried yourself in absolute confidence had him weak in the knees. It felt like he was young, and crushing all over again. A feeling Kuroo swore he’d never get tired of as long as it was for you.

Back in his trailer, the raven-haired male unceremoniously plopped himself atop the black leather couch, the fabric groaning beneath his weight. Resting an arm over his closed eyes, he let out a sigh into the empty trailer, silence engulfing his whole body.

It had been a long day of filming for 16 hours, albeit, only the second day, Kuroo still hasn’t gotten used to spending full days with you, he only had his personal trailer to collect his thoughts, and calm himself down from the raging feelings that bubbled in his chest. It was embarrassing, really, a grown man acting like a lovesick, hormonal teenager around his ex-lover.

He felt guilty on his end—you’ve been nothing but completely professional as any actor should be. You voiced your thoughts with the director during particularly challenging scenes, even going out of your way to discuss, and rehearse some lines with Kuroo before the initial shooting had started. Meanwhile on his end, he gawked at you like some starstruck fan, blindly agreeing to whatever you suggested, if it meant getting closer to you.

Funny thing was that Kuroo was forced to work twice as hard to ignore the blossoming feeling deep within the pit of his stomach; the feel of your clothed body beneath his palms, your plush lips, your gaze that never failed to make his breath hitch, it all drove him absolutely insane. 

Removing the arm over his eyes, Kuroo’s phone loudly buzzed from the vanity table, the noise hastily reeling him back to reality. He let out a short sigh before standing up to check the device, legs heavy with exhaustion in each step. The device lit up in his hand, displaying a text message from you; that’s right, you’d asked for Kuroo’s number during the script analysis—he never really deleted yours but it was no use anyway, you had a new one.

‘Hey, Kuroo. Sorry for the late notice! I was just wondering if you wanted to briefly rehearse a few lines with me tonight before filming the scenes tomorrow?’

One thing he couldn’t get used to was you calling him by his surname—it was always Tetsurou or Tetsu from you. God, how he missed the way it rolled off your tongue like honey, saccharine, and smooth. Now, Kuroo just sounded so. . empty, and cold.

Nonetheless, he shook off the uncomfortable feeling rooted deep within his chest, rolling his broad shoulder’s back, muscles moving beneath his ivory evening shirt—it was a habit Kuroo had picked up whenever he felt slightly off.

He swiftly typed back a response, ‘Don’t worry, I don’t mind it at all! I’ll meet you in an hour?’

Seemed casual enough. 

A second later, you replied, ‘Cool :) Meet at my suite in an hour.’ Kuroo’s heart pounded at the thought of spending the late hours of the night in your hotel suite. Sure, he had previously rehearsed lines with you but that was in one of the rooms in your talent agency which felt like he was on the clock. Practising scenes with you in your hotel suite however, it was a completely different story—it felt more intimate.

Given the far distance of shooting location, the production had booked separate suites for you, and Kuroo under the same hotel. It had its pros, and cons—pro: being able to see you first thing in the morning whenever you both headed to the shoot in the mornings; con: even with a wall between your suites, just thinking about how close you were drove Kuroo a little crazy.

Given the ample time to wash up, and prepare for the night ahead, Kuroo stood before the ivory double doors to your suite, script in one hand while the other lightly knocked. After a heartbeat, padded footsteps from the other side hastily made its way towards the doors, faint sounds of the lock becoming undone. A door swung open, revealing you in your relaxed late night attire,

“Come in. Thanks again for coming.”

It was exactly the same view that Kuroo had in his suite—boasting a vast, modern space for its esteemed guest, the suite exuded utmost sophistication, and luxury with its grandeur floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the bustling city beneath. Not trusting his voice, and giving you a nod, Kuroo stiffly headed for the champagne couch beneath the gleaming chandeliers.

You weren’t going to lie, seeing Kuroo standing before your door was something you kind of missed, the way his build almost completely obscured the view of the carpeted hallway outside—it wasn’t a foreign sight at all. You had to mentally slap your face for ogling the man, even for a brief second. 

Though, no one could really blame you with the way Kuroo’s casual attire hugged his physique; clad in a white printed tee that you knew very well, paired with comfy, jet black sweats. The shirt he wore was his favourite, even back then, though, the only difference was that his torso filled it out much, much better now—the slight bulge of his muscled chest that left little to one’s imagination, and the sinful stretch of the ivory fabric circling his beefy biceps.

Oh, god.

Mentally cursing yourself, you followed suit after locking the doors behind, opting to sit on the champagne couch parallel to where Kuroo sat—his back was straight, and away from the backrest, sitting slightly on the edge of the couch. “Make yourself comfortable. Did you want anything? Hm, the complimentary dom pérignon is still unopened in the wine fridge. .”

Kuroo shook his head, “I’m fine.”

Mixing alcohol into this rehearsal sounded like a nightmare considering how much of a blabbermouth he became once liquid courage stained his bloodstream.

Nodding at his contentment, both of you spent the first few minutes sharing a few notes about the script from the table read, exchanging thoughts and ideas to grasp a deeper understanding of the scene at hand.

You had to physically refrain yourself from smiling at the way Kuroo stumbled over his words from time to time, his hands animatedly moving with each sentence that slipped past his lips. He was always so confident around everyone else but when it came to you, his mind just blanked. After all these years, he was still the same old Kuroo that you loved, and knew.

Something deep in your chest bubbled.

After a while, you were both on your feet, acting out the scene in the expansive living room which involved a bit of a heated argument back, and forth between the female lead, and the male lead.

Kuroo’s tall figure loomed over your own, pools of hazel staring down at you, full of hurt, and confusion, chest heaving from all the emotions that surged through every fibre of his body, “Do you—do you not love me anymore? To even throw baseless accusations at me while my heart yearns for you day, and night is unfair. If you don’t feel the same way for me anymore, tell me, my love,” Two steps closer, trembling hands coming up to cup your jaw, while his solemn gaze locked on to yours.

“Just. . just say the word, and I’ll let you be. Even if this is the very thing that breaks my beating heart.”

Closing your eyes for a brief moment, you inhaled a sharp breath, returning Kuroo’s solemn gaze, your hand sliding up to rest atop one of his own, “No—god, never. I love you so much it hurts. I love you with all my heart, and soul. . ‘M sorry I said stupid things. I just—”

“Shh, it’s okay, my love.” He whispers into the air, barely audible. Kuroo leans his forehead against yours, staying still for a brief moment, before pulling away, eyes shifting down to your lips—the next part had a passionate kissing scene between your character, and Kuroo’s character.

He waited for your approval with a bated breath, and with a slight dip of your chin, Kuroo didn’t hesitate to dive into your lips, letting out a content sigh as he sealed the distance.

The kiss was slow, and deep—it felt real, almost like it came from the depths of his heart. He took his time with your lips, moving ever so slowly to savour the saccharine taste, and angling his head to gain better access. The two of you stood there, in the middle of the spacious living room, lips locked in a sensual kiss, neither one dared to pull away as if waiting to hear the director’s voice say ‘Cut!’ to end the scene.

It never came.

And Kuroo gripped your face a little tighter, pressing himself further into you, savouring the plush of your lips before abruptly pulling away. You shamelessly chased his lips for more, looking up at your ex lover through hooded eyes. Something in the atmosphere shifted—maybe it was the way Kuroo looked down at you, his pink lips parted, and chest heaving or maybe it was the way his kiss felt too real. It was different from the kisses he gave in front of the camera.

You couldn’t quite pinpoint it but Kuroo’s kiss weighed with history behind it.

“I love you. God, I still do. So fucking much.” Kuroo breathed out, voice shaky. He couldn’t hear his own words properly over the hammering of his heart. Fuck, he felt his head spinning. 

That wasn’t in the script. Was he improvising?

You froze beneath Kuroo’s searing touch upon hearing the sudden confession, meeting his solemn hazel eyes. If he was being honest, he didn’t know why he had the sudden urge to just let you know what lay inside his heart, all Kuroo knew was he was still shamelessly in love with you—none could change that fact.

“Kuroo . . ?” A deep crease between your brows formed as you furrowed them, trying to find an answer beyond pools of amber. He gave a mournful smile, “I’m sorry, I was such an idiot back then. I-I know it’s stupid to ask you to come back to me but . . you’re the only one I truly want.”

The man before you sheepishly looked down at his feet as you stared at him in disbelief, like you’ve seen some kind of ghost. Your head spun—it was too much to process, you didn’t know whether to be happy because you felt the same way or angry since Kuroo had the audacity to confess that easily after leaving you in the air for so long.

Fuck it.

At your deafening silence, the hands that cupped your face loosened, Kuroo’s body slowly reeling back but before he could put ample distance between, you grabbed him by the collar of his ivory shirt, and eagerly sealed your lips together, earning a surprised gasp from the taller male.

Melting into each other’s hold, Kuroo cut the sweet kiss short, opting to pepper hot, open mouthed kisses along the column of your neck, nose grazing against your sensitive skin to breathe in your intoxicating scent,

“Mhm—! Tetsu. .”

The sudden use of his nickname earned a sharp bite at the junction of your neck, pulling out a dulcet moan from you. Kuroo’s head spun at your dizzying sounds—god, he missed the way his name effortlessly rolled off your sinful tongue. The slumbering beast between his legs stirred as you continued to call out his name into the air like a prayer.

It wasn’t long before the two of you stumbled onto the soft bed while locked in a messy, passionate kiss, trails of discarded articles of clothing along the wooden floors of the suite, just like a pair of lovers who had been long deprived of each other’s blazing touch—it awakened yours, and Kuroo’s dormant, yearning hearts, and nothing was bound to stop it now.

It had been far too long silently orbiting around one another like two celestial bodies intertwined in an endless dance, gravity never straying you both too far from each other but also neither bringing you closer. Tonight, however, it seemed like the universe had granted you, and Kuroo a potent gravitational force—two celestial beings bound for a planetary collision.

It was scandalous—something keen-eyed tabloids would go crazy over—all teeth, and tongue paired with a series of whispered names into the night air. Professionalism was long thrown out the window.

Oh, you could already imagine the amount of bizarre headlines with your names plastered all over the media if one were to see a glimpse behind the doors of your hotel suite.

Just like the scene shot earlier today, Kuroo caged your naked body with his arms, every dip, and curve of his muscles contoured beneath warm hues of the lights above. He slowly kissed his way down the valley of your breasts—teasingly poking his sinful tongue to lap in between them—down to your stomach until reaching the very place where you needed him the most.

“Just like I remembered—beautiful as ever.” Kuroo breathed out, in awe of your raw beauty laid out in front of him to absolutely devour, hazel eyes filled with genuine admiration. His breath fanned over your hot sex, pulling your thighs apart to reveal your glistening cunt.

He didn’t hesitate to dive in, groaning into your soft skin as his tongue eagerly explored your sensitive core. With his eyes closed, forehead creased in absolute concentration, and fingers digging into the plush of your thighs, Kuroo pressed his face further, relishing the familiar flavour that graced his taste buds—you. Your hands were quick to fly down to his unruly raven strands, tugging at it as he lapped your insides like there was no tomorrow.

Whimpers of his name lingered on the damp air, going straight to his cock that hardened with each moan of his name.

Sinful, lewd sounds of Kuroo’s tongue against your velvety walls, mixed with your moans reverberated throughout the expansive suite. He pulled a long, airy whimper from your lips as he nudged the tip of his nose against your sensitive clit, sucking profusely on your sopping cunt.

God, he felt right at home.

The feeling Kuroo had been chasing for the past five years finally came to him on a silver platter, and he wasn’t about to let it go again.

A bubbling feeling in the depths of your core slowly made itself known, rapidly rising up, up, up near the surface where it was bound to release but before that could happen, you mustered all your strength amidst the lustful daze to form a coherent sentence,

“T-Tetsu—wait! Mhm! Hold on. .” You audibly gasped, prying him away from your sensitive cunt. A smack of Kuroo’s lips lingered in the air as he pulled away, hooded gaze staring up at you with concern laced in his eyes, “Something wrong? Did I hurt you?” He panted, hot breath ghosting over the apex of your legs; you watched as his eyes frantically scanned your face, looking for any signs of discomfort.

Shaking your head, Kuroo softly melted onto the ivory sheets below with ease, waiting for you to voice your thoughts; keen hazel eyes watched as you bit your bottom lip, a tinge of hesitancy clouding your blissful expression, “I want to cum around you.”

There was a heartbeat, a brief moment as your words registered in Kuroo’s head—his lips, glistening with your essence, slowly parted, the crimson blush across his cheeks deepening as he fully grasped your sentence. Millions of emotions surged through every fibre of his being, ranging from A to Z. He deemed himself the luckiest man alive, just the thought of feeling your hot, velvety walls around his cock made his head spin with lust.

”You little temptress.” He breathlessly chuckled, it was anything but innocent.

Kuroo eagerly situated himself to your left, propping his body sideways to face you. As if communicating through telepathy, you mirrored his action, bare back flush against his naked chest—it was second nature at this point, having done this countless times in the past; safe to say it was yours, and Kuroo’s favourite position.

Hooking your left hand under your thigh, you propped it up onto the air, a dainty moan escaping your swollen lips as Kuroo teasingly brushed the tip of his hard cock. It made you a little nervous with the knowledge of how thick he was—sure, you’ve taken him inside you before but five years was a long time ago. As if he could sense your nerves, Kuroo placed a trail of chaste kisses from your neck down to your shoulder, whispering sweet nothings into your skin.

With a bated breath, he slowly inched in bit by bit, earning a series of colourful profanities slipping past your lips. God, Kuroo was fucking thick. “Mhm . . Y-you feel so good.” He whined, pressing his forehead against your shoulder as he bottomed out, relishing in the way your eager walls sucked him in without an ounce of hesitancy, almost like they were welcoming him back.

Both of you stayed still for a moment, sounds of heavy breathing filling the warm air of the night, basking in the rawness of each other’s body, the intimacy of the whole thing—the way Kuroo felt inside you, and the way you felt around him. “I missed you so much, Tetsu . .” That was the last coherent sentence you confessed before he slowly drew his hips back until the head remained, and sensually thrusting back in.

Kuroo wanted to take his time, giving you deep, slow thrusts to feel every inch of him, and fuck, you absolutely did. The way the head of his cock kissed your sweet, sweet spot had your eyes rolling back, and hand gripping on the ivory sheets below; it didn’t help how Kuroo directly moaned into your ear, hearing every incoherent mumble that slipped past his lips.

His fingers dug into the plush of your hips, angling his own to gain better access. Soft, lewd squelches of your bodies meeting filled your ears as Kuroo’s pace picked up a bit, the bubbling feeling once again resurfacing as each hammering heartbeat pounded on your chest.

Fuck, it’s been so, so long since you’ve had him—the way your body reacted under his touch were enough proof of how deprived you were of this man.

Tears pooled around your eyes at the depth of his sheathed cock, hitting places inside you that you’ve never discovered. A series of dulcet moans rumbled from your chest, and onto the high ceiling above, forehead pressed against the soft mattress beneath as pleasure engulfed your whole body. Tired, burning muscles on your left thigh was nothing compared to the ecstasy that gnawed at every fibre of your being.

But before you could reach the peak, Kuroo slowed down, earning a loud whine from you. Looking over your shoulder, you met his lustful gaze, lashes, and eyes glazed from tears of bliss, 

“W-wha—Why’d you stop, Tetsu . . ?” “I’m sorry but I really want to see you, my love.”

Next thing you knew, Kuroo had flipped your bodies—he remained on the bed while you straddled him, legs on either side of his waist. Impatience brewing in your chest, you wordlessly grabbed his hefty cock, and slipped it inside, earning a unison of deep moans from both of you.

An icy shudder licked up Kuroo’s spine as your nails scraped his bare chest. “Tetsu.” You whined, slowly moving your hips up, and down, up, and down. Raven strands stuck to his sweaty forehead, beads of sweat rolling down his flushed skin; he stared up at your fucked out expression, biting on his bottom lip at the sight before him; oh, how he missed this view.

It didn’t take long for you to become a whimpering mess as Kuroo thrusted upwards, meeting your hips as you came down. This earned a loud moan of his name, curling over your own body, and planting your forehead flush against his sweaty chest. 

He let out a humourless chuckle, “Tired, baby?”

Before you could muster a response, Kuroo shifted beneath your limp body, hands coming up to rest on your hips, and planting the soles of his feet firmly on the mattress before mercilessly pistoning his hips into yours.

You eyes swiftly opened at the intense pleasure that ate away at your body—fuck, you didn’t even know they were closed—moaning loudly against Kuroo’s skin like there was no tomorrow. The room was filled with the heavy scent of sex, sounds of shameless skin slapping echoing throughout the walls of your suite; if one were to walk along the hallway, they’d know exactly what was happening beyond the ivory doors.

Unable to move your hips due to Kuroo’s deathly grip, you lay limp on top of his naked body, taking all of him, and the relentless pounding, your bare figure jerking with every sinful thrust. Looking up at him with teary eyes, you rested a trembling hand on his cheek, basking in his handsome beauty—his face concentrated in pure bliss.

“A-ah—! Tetsu. . ‘M coming!”

All it took for Kuroo to cum with you was your blissful expression, and the broken whine of his name. Sheathing his hard cock deep inside your cunt until his hips were flush against yours, he let out a shameless moan of your name, head pressing into the pillows beneath as icy shivers ran up his spine. Your body stiffened with pleasure, clenching around Kuroo’s cock as you reached your orgasm; a small whine left your lips at the feeling of his hot cum painting your walls white. 

You lay limp atop his body, sweaty, muscles burning with exhaustion, and blissfully on cloud nine. Staying still for a brief moment, heavy breaths filled the air as the situation settled onto your bones. With your eyes still locked on Kuroo, your thumb gently caressed his cheek, earning his hazel gaze in return.

“I thought you were improvising earlier.” You let out a tired laugh, trying to lighten the mood now that lust was slowly wearing off your mind.

He looked down at you for a brief second before fixing his gaze onto the ceiling above, a solemn smile gracing his lips, “I meant every word I said back there, you know? I . . I still do love you. Like I mentioned earlier, it's stupid but I want to at least try again. I’d be more than a fool to let you go.”

Kuroo looked down at you once again as you placed a chaste kiss on the tip of his chin—something he had grown fond of—gaze melting as you met his eyes once again; he gave you a smile, one that reached his eyes.

“I’d be the more stupid one if I refused. I missed you a lot, Tetsu.”

The next morning, the shoot started off without a hitch. Surprisingly—as observed by the crew—there wasn’t a sense of awkwardness between you, and Kuroo in comparison to the first two days of filming where many had noticed that you, and your co-star didn’t have much chemistry off-camera to begin with.

No one dared to point it out but many have noticed the lingering touches here, and there, the prolonged eye contact, and the stolen glances. One member of the crew even swore to have seen you sneak over to Kuroo’s personal trailer at the end of the shoot with a lovesick smile written all over your face.

Safe to say that these subtle actions carried onto premiere night, and press tours for the film which may or may not have had eagle-eyed fans, and tabloids speculating about a budding relationship between you, and Kuroo, especially when asked during promotional interviews.

Though, you’d both usually just laugh it off with a shrug. It was best to keep it personal—like an unwritten script.

—

affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum !

[moonstruckme]

hello mae! you said that you’re tentatively thinking about doing poly! jily? how about them x shy!reader who is used to spending holidays alone but now that she’s in a relationship, James and Lily wanna give her experiences of like carving pumpkins, baking cookies, or something like that.

just cute and domestic fall activities!! I hope that’s enough.

Thank you for requesting lovely!

poly!Jily x shy!reader ♡ 845 words

You smile, and James plants his lips on your cheek just before the flash. 

“Perfect,” Lily says while the camera whirs. She takes the photo it spits out, going to stow it in a shady corner of the porch. 

“Now one with you,” James urges. 

“No.” Lily waves him off as you second James’ request. “How would we get all of us and our pumpkins in it?” 

“James has long arms,” you say.

"Yeah, Evans." James grabs you roughly around the shoulders, making your face heat even as you smile. "I have long arms. Give it here."

After some debate Lily hands over the camera. James holds it out as far as he can, waiting until you’re all holding up your jack-o-lanterns before pressing the button. 

It goes beside the other photo, waiting for the film to develop. You know as soon as it does, both photos will be clustered in with the others on James and Lily’s fridge, held up by magnets beginning to lose their strength under the weight of so many. Lily has always liked to take pictures, and ever since you got together she’s been cramming ones of you into every empty space. This relationship is relatively new for you, and most days you’re still trying to figure out where you fit, but Lily and James do everything to make you feel welcome. In a million tiny ways, they show you all the time that they care just as much for you as they do for each other. 

James looks between your pumpkins pridefully. “Whose do we think turned out the best?” 

“Lily’s,” you say at the same time as Lily says, “Mine.” 

James’ mouth falls open. “Mine was good too!”

“Sorry, Jamie.” You give his shoulder a consoling pat. “Hers is just better.” 

The fact of the matter is, your girlfriend was simply patient where you and James were not. She outlined her jack-o-lantern’s face beforehand in marker, used a small knife to achieve the curvatures of one heart-shaped eye and one winking one, and took the time to make the edges of her cuts look nice and clean. James and you, however, tried to freehand things with much larger knives; it had not gone quite so well. 

“I think there should be points for creativity,” says James, frowning at his botched pumpkin. He’d tried to give it round eyes, and in the process accidentally cut more than he meant to. The result is jagged and vaguely upsetting, so eventually he decided it was an ill pumpkin and trailed its entrails out of its mouth so it looks like it’s vomiting pumpkin guts. 

“It was a very creative solution,” Lily tells James. And to you, “You did really well for your first time, too, sweetheart.” 

You snort. Yours is nearly as bad as James’. Both of your partners had to show you how to saw through the pumpkin flesh more than once to keep you from yanking the knife out and stabbing yourself. After many tutorials, you’d managed two triangle-shaped eyes, but the teeth you’d tried to put in your jack-o-lantern’s mouth had fallen out, so now it just looks like a rather simplistic, very upbeat face. 

“You did,” Lily insists, but she’s repressing a laugh too as she looks down at your pumpkin. “It’s cute.” 

“It looks like something a five-year-old could have done,” you acknowledge. 

“You and a five-year-old have about the same amount of experience carving pumpkins, so that’s not really so bad,” says James. He reaches for the polaroids Lily took. “Let’s see how these turned out.” 

“James Potter,” Lily’s voice goes sharp, “don’t you dare touch those with your slimy hands.” 

“Okay, alright.” James holds his hands up in the air. He stands instead, backing away slowly like Lily has him at gunpoint. “C’mon, lovie, let’s go fish the seeds out in the sink.” 

“What for?” you ask, following him as he carries your large bowl of pumpkin entrails inside. 

“If you separate the seeds and roast them, you can eat them.” James raises his eyebrows at you. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had pumpkin seeds before.” 

“Nope.” 

“Ugh. You poor, deprived girl.” James takes your face in his hands, and you smile despite the slick feeling of his pumpkin-y fingers on your cheeks. His eyebrows scrunch pityingly as he kisses above your nose. “We’ll right that wrong today, sweetheart, don’t you worry.” 

“You haven’t been missing out on much,” Lily says, slipping past the two of you with your photos. She wedges them underneath a magnet on the fridge. “It’s a lot of effort for a snack.” 

“She only says that because she can’t stand the guts,” James tells you conspiratorially. 

“Really?” You mash your hands into the stringy pumpkin bits. “I kind of like them.” 

Lily makes a face. “They’re all slimy and weird. And sticky.” 

“Wimp,” James teases. 

“You’ve just called them guts, James. In what world does that sound appealing?” 

“Angel,” James says in a quiet voice, “you’ll protect me, won’t you?” 

You frown at him. “Why?” 

He picks up a small mass of pumpkin guts and lobs it at your girlfriend. 

“James!”

[starriisarchives]

FILL ME UP ❤︎

ᝰ.ᐟ rodrick heffley x fem!reader | duration: 1.1k

description: rodrick sees a perfect time to start the process of baby making.

content: nsfw 18+ ﾉ breeding kink ﾉ dom!rodrick ﾉ sub!reader ﾉ lil praise kink ﾉ dirty talk ﾉ aftercare mentioned ﾉ rodrick’s is in his twenties.

notes: ahhh, i know i did a slight rodrick smut headcanons before but this is my first full fic smut for him and i'm excited. i hope y’all enjoy this.

kinktober mlist 𐙚 masterlist 𐙚 previous fic 𐙚 taglist

“How was that?”

You ask, looking at Rodrick who has a smile on his face, you just got done singing a new song you wrote for the band. You were pretty nervous about it too, it was one that gave you writer’s block since you wanted to be perfect.

“You always sound good,” Rodrick comments, laying back on the couch manspreading; gripping onto the drumsticks he held in his hand.

“I’m happy you liked it.” You question, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, you walk over to where he’s sitting, immediately taking your seat on his lap, taking his sticks out of his hand, placing it on the couch cushion, as his hands cups your waist, moving slowly towards your ass, squeezing it while he captures your soft lips with his after staring deeply into your eyes.

You knew what you two were doing was bad, intimacy between band mates was against the rules so no conflict were to ever happen if breakups were to concur but the magnetic pull that keeps bringing you two together since you met is so strong that you can’t just walk away from those feelings. Whenever he looks at you when he thinks you are not looking, it gets you all giddy inside, the butterflies that form in your stomach whenever you sing in front of him because his opinion always mattered the most out of everyone.

His hands grips the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head breaking the kiss for only a second, he unclamps your bra, discarding to the ground as you grind over his growing bulge that you can tell was aching to be released from the restraints of his jeans. 

Your hands travel down to his lower waist, unbuttoning his jeans, zipping down the zipper while you lift your body for a minute so he can take off both his jeans and his boxers, his hard cock springing up once it’s released. 

“Let me check the waters,” Rodrick says, bringing his hand under your skirt, feeling the wet spot on your panties, a smirk tugs on the corner of his lips as he pulls your panty to the side, lining up his tip to your entrance. “Look at my princess, all wet for me.” 

Your face heats up at his comment as you sink down slowly, biting down on your bottom lip as you enjoy every inch until you flush against his pelvis.

You hold on to his shoulders as you start to grind your hips slowly to get used to his length briefly before you start to bounce up and down on his cock. You squeeze your eyes shut from how good he feels inside of you. It was like your pussy was made only for him as it fits perfectly better than your ex ever did.

His hands grip your waist tightly as he guides your movements, the sounds of your moans mingling with each other filling the garage as if anyone was to walk by, they would hear what was going on and it excites you more.

“Oh fuck,” he groans, keeping eye contact with you as you continue bouncing, loving the squelching noises your pussy was making. You moans spill out your mouth as you’re loving every second of this. 

Rodrick arms wrap around your waist stopping all movement as he holds you while getting up, placing you on your stomach near the edge of the couch not disconnecting from your greedy cunt.

“If only you can see how pretty you are as you take all of me,” He comments, admiring the sight beneath him as he rolls his hips into you, soft moans escaping out of your slightly parted mouth as you grip the couch.

“Perfect, little pussy suckin’ me right in,” He groans as he keeps his pace looking into your pretty eyes. “Fuck— please…” you whimper.

“Please what? Use your words, tell me what you want, love,” Rodrick watches you try to form complete sentences as he thrust deeper inside of you, your moans filling his ears. He smirks once again, knowing he got you too fucked out to talk. 

Your boobs bouncing with each thrust, he looks at your sweat-slick belly, he reaches down to your breasts and his mouth trails down the valley of your breasts, biting and nibbling on the soft flesh, tongue swirling on the marks forming on your skin as his saliva leaves wet spots behind.

"So soft for me, (name), look at you" he huffs out, trailing downwards, reaching your stomach and something in his eyes change a shade darker, pounding into your cunt, the mewls in response from you drives him crazy, his mind going to places he shouldn't but the only thing that came to his mind was you full with his baby, your belly so round and soft. It would be one way to mark you as his, to stop all the guys from flirting with you after shows.

“Please… let me come,” you finally get out as you dig your nails into his back. 

“Go ahead, come all over my cock,” he groans as he uses his fingers to rub on your clit. Your cunt clenching around his dick, and your body starts to convulse, painting not only his cock but his lower waist as well with your release. 

“Good girl,” Rodrick praises in your ear as you try to catch your breath. “Gonna fill you up real good, would you like that, love?” He pounds harder and deeper as his cock twitches inside your cunt loving the sight of you nodding your head yes to his question, your gummy walls gripping him tighter. “You’d look so beautiful while carrying my child,” He places his hand on your stomach as he is picturing the sight. 

The mere images made his cock twitch inside you, your lewd noises of overstimulation just making it hard to back off from actually doing it, the pace he set is ruthless, pounding inside your sopping hole, slippery with your juices as he chases his end. 

Your lips parted, whined spewing out of your mouth as he fucks you, hitting the spongy spot repeatedly, nearing his own orgasm as he fills you up to the brim with his hot white spurts of seeds, his breath warm on your neck, your legs tightly wrapped around his waist, perfectly fitting inside, hitting the spots in an angle never before, catching up with his depleted air levels as he looks down at your fucked out state, hands connected while your bodies connected as well with his cock still buried deep to the hilt inside your warm core, the images still plagued his mind. 

Rodrick slowly pulls out and as he does, he watches some of his cum ooze from your hole, he scoops it up and pushes it back into your pussy earning a whimper to escape your mouth. “I know baby, just needed to make sure none of it goes to waste, let’s clean you up,” he picks you up in bridal style, you snuggle in his chest while he carries you inside your home, leading you to the bathroom, happy of what’s to come in the future.

comments: @cherriespopsicle, @rain-likes-purple, @lover-of-books-and-tea.

end of video. — all rights reserved © starriisarchives 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[admiringlove]

growing pains. hello everybody. welcome to the second rendition of @angstober 2024! i hope you enjoy <3

kageyama tobio was a cute kid.

he moved in when you were just three. back then, your days were filled with learning big words, your mother patiently guiding you through children's books, when suddenly, a boy with an oversized, odd-looking ball came into your world. his hair was parted right down the middle, and every day, he’d be out in the yard, chasing after that strange ball with his grandfather, completely obsessed.

you were six when he first said hello. it took him two and a half years to work up the courage, and all because that ridiculous ball of his ended up in your front yard. without asking, he came through the gate, eyes wide with panic, just as you were about to head to the park.

“who are you?” you’d asked, head tilted with curiosity, and he’d stammered out his name like he’d been caught red-handed in a burglary. then, of course, you had to ask about the ball—bigger than his head. what was the deal with that? “it’s a volleyball,” he’d mumbled, and from that moment on, the two of you were intertwined, like a mystery waiting to unfold.

for the next ten years, kageyama tobio became your favorite puzzle. you chased after him like someone chasing a wild animal, half playfully, half determined. at first, it was a game—like you were sherlock and he, your elusive moriarty. your mother had always read you detective stories before bed, so solving the enigma that was kageyama seemed only natural.

when he turned seven, he found you in his front yard, peering through a magnifying glass, completely absorbed in your detective work. for an entire week, the two of you played with that thing, examining ants at the park, squinting at the pen strokes his father made in his books. eventually, he got bored. but you didn’t. no, you kept staring—sometimes at the world, but often at him.

you never tired of anything, especially not of him. you wanted to know more, to know everything. curiosity overflowed within you, spilling out like an unsolvable riddle. and you know what they say—curiosity killed the cat.

because it wasn’t just the world you wanted to uncover, not really. it was kageyama tobio. he was the one who truly fascinated you. when you learned in fifth grade that he had a soft spot for flavored milk, that was it. it became your little tradition. every so often, you’d head to the vending machine, and without fail, you’d grab him a drink—banana or strawberry, depending on the day. in return, he’d hand you the chips his mother packed in his lunch, like an unspoken exchange, as familiar as breathing. if it were up to him, it would always be strawberry.

and that’s how it was, the two of you orbiting each other like planets—his world of volleyball, your world of endless curiosity. playful, magnetic, bound together by rituals only you two understood.

you turned eleven and discovered that liking boys was a real thing. at first, the thought repulsed you; all you wanted was to bury yourself in the pages of sherlock holmes and pretend to play volleyball with kageyama. he was a prodigy, after all, dazzling everyone with his skills. kids from other districts flocked to watch him, enchanted by his talent. thankfully, he hadn’t yet transformed into an absolute twat; his ego was still catching up with him, lingering just out of reach.

“tobio,” you said one day, scrutinizing him as he carelessly set the ball near the riverbank. your gaze was fixed on the tips of his fingers, studying them as if they were an intricate puzzle waiting to be solved. he paused, turning to face you with a look of curiosity. “don’t your fingers hurt?”

“eh?” he replied, shuffling closer. with a flick of his wrist, he held out his hand toward you. “you mean this?”

the eleven-year-old boy displayed a myriad of calluses on his hands, more than you could count. you gasped in dramatic shock, a hand flying to your mouth, and couldn’t resist teasing him about his mother not noticing how rough and unsightly they had become. his eyes narrowed in mock indignation as he yelled at you for talking trash about his mother. you quickly apologized, laughter bubbling up as you declared you would simply have to complain about his “disgusting” hands instead.

that was the essence of your friendship—something sacred, woven from playful banter and shared secrets. the two of you were inseparable, bound by the threads of childhood innocence and mischief.

now, when you think back, it’s often to those moments—him proudly displaying his calluses as you played near the bridge by the river, the sun casting golden hues across the water. you remember walking home alongside him at sunset, a flutter of fear in your stomach about the kidnappers your father had warned you about just the other day. tobio had simply chuckled, telling you that you weren’t an actual genius like sherlock, so you couldn’t possibly be a target for any kidnapper anyway.

life was so simple, so beautifully uncomplicated, until you turned fourteen.

because that’s when you realized you had indeed grown up. you were on the winding road to adulthood, and suddenly, you found yourself hopelessly in love with your next-door neighbor, kageyama tobio—your best friend of eight years. he had sprouted taller, like a young tree reaching for the sky, and his voice had deepened into a rich timbre that sent butterflies flitting through your stomach. everything felt like it was shifting beneath your feet, especially as he found new friends who flocked to him like birds of a feather, while you remained nestled in your closely knit circle, distanced from him.

how were you supposed to navigate these newfound feelings? the conditions were far from ideal. how could you possibly have a crush on him while trying to maintain the friendship you cherished so much, especially when your social circles had diverged at school? being a teenager had suddenly morphed into a tangled web of complexities, each strand pulling you in different directions.

you still managed to walk home with him every day after your club activities, a routine that felt like a comforting ritual. you were quickly on your way to becoming the head of your literature club at junior high, while kageyama had been consumed by his passion for volleyball since he was just a kid. being next-door neighbors with the love of your life was undeniably convenient; it meant he had no choice but to stroll alongside you.

thankfully, the dynamic remained blissfully unchanged. the playful teasing, the exchange of strawberry and banana milk, and the shared bags of cheese puffs, or sometimes other chips, were the threads that wove your friendship together. it didn’t matter what snack you had; all you really wanted was to watch him sip through a thin plastic straw, the golden glow of the setting sun casting a warm halo around him as you walked the quiet streets together.

you cherished these moments, especially since he never hurried you along. instead, he walked slowly, savoring the time spent together, as if he genuinely enjoyed your company. this new pace allowed you both to appreciate the little things—the laughter of children playing in the distance, the rustle of leaves in the evening breeze, and the gentle warmth of the sun dipping below the horizon. it felt like a breath of fresh air, invigorating and sweet, a reminder that these small moments were treasures to be cherished.

but then you turned fifteen, and tobio transformed into someone unrecognizable. the boy who had once sparked your curiosity now seemed bitter and hardened, his heart cloaked in ego that swelled within him like a balloon about to burst. his tone had sharpened, cutting through the air like a knife, and he often wore a mask of rudeness that left you reeling. yet, despite it all, your heart still weakly fluttered whenever he was near, an instinctive reaction you couldn’t quite shake.

then it happened. one fateful day, as you walked past the gym to pick up tobio, you overheard a conversation that pierced through you like an arrow.

"aren't they your childhood friend? don't you think they're attractive, even if it's just a little?"

the words lingered in the air, but before you could savor the thought, his response shattered your heart.

"what? no! i could never see them like that. this is grossing me out. stop talking nonsense and focus on volleyball. you didn't spike this set on time!"

his words struck like a hammer, relentless and unforgiving, stomping on your heart a million times without him even realizing the damage he’d done. it was as if the boy you had cherished for so long had vanished, leaving behind only a shadow of the friendship you once held dear.

that day, you walked home alone for the first time ever, the silence of the empty streets echoing the ache in your chest. when the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of orange and purple, you felt a weight pressing down on you. the next day, he didn’t question your absence, didn’t seem to care at all. and in that moment, you understood: you were no longer the person he had once found intriguing. you were just a ghost of a past friendship, lost in the void that had replaced your bond. he was not moriarty anymore, and neither were you sherlock.

you wondered if you ever were.

slowly, you created a chasm between him and you. it was a drift you instigated, unaware of the full weight of your decision. one by one, he lost the people he once held close, and you stood on the sidelines, a silent witness, hoping desperately that he would grasp the hint you were trying to send.

then, one afternoon, while walking home with a small paper bag of eggs cradled in your arms, you collided with him. curses swirled through your mind as you attempted to sidestep him, but his voice cut through the air, halting your escape.

"aren't you cold?"

you raised an eyebrow, turning to meet his gaze, your heart racing with an unexpected mix of hope and apprehension. you hummed softly in response, feeling the cool breeze brush against your skin. he repeated his question, and you shook your head, summoning a casualness you didn’t truly feel. "just a small walk. i didn't think i'd need a jacket."

"right," he mumbled under his breath, and the silence that followed felt thick with unspoken words. a part of you longed to mention his recent benching during the last match, but the fear of misinterpretation held you back, like a weight pressing on your tongue.

"are you doing okay nowadays?" the question slipped from your lips before you could stop it. you still cared, a part of you reluctant to sever the last thread binding you to him. it felt like that age-old adage—"curiosity killed the cat"—echoing in your mind, a reminder of your unfulfilled longing.

he opened his mouth, perhaps to share something profound, but then hesitated. you knew his expressions as well as the lines of your own heart; he seemed to weigh his words carefully. "i'm okay. i'm going to a high school called karasuno. you?"

the answer came too quickly, and the disappointment surged within you. "i'm going to seijoh, like oikawa and iwa-senpai," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "i enrolled there because i thought you'd be going there too. so, you know, we could walk together-"

he cut you off, the sharpness of his words slicing through the fragile moment. "we haven't done that in months, who are you kidding?"

you blinked, surprise washing over you like cold water. he was right. in the span of what felt like an eternity, the simple companionship you had once shared had faded into memory. perhaps your wishful thinking had blinded you to the reality; you were no longer the two kids wandering home together.

"i'm... sorry," you tilt your head, "have i done something to make you mad?"

you thought this was what he wanted—that he didn’t care for your tetra packs of strawberry or banana milk, that he was indifferent to your presence beside him as you walked home from school. the realization stung like a bee’s bite, leaving you with the unsettling notion that your companionship was as easily replaceable as the snacks you offered. but then he clicked his tongue, shaking his head with that familiar exasperation, his voice laced with sarcasm that dripped like spicy honey, sweet yet sharp.

“no. you can never do anything wrong, am i right?”

with that, he turned and walked into his house, leaving you standing there, the air heavy with unsaid words.

months passed without a glimpse of him. it was only when you were returning home from literature club, the sun dipping below the clouds, casting long shadows on the pavement, that you spotted him. there he was, in a black uniform, juggling a volleyball under one arm while the other struggled to pry a few papers from between his teeth as he rummaged through his bag.

“do you need any help?” your voice sliced through the crisp evening air, a tentative offering. he blinked, momentarily surprised, before handing you the scattered papers and the ball.

“y-yeah. i’m looking for my keys. ever since miwa went off to college, there’s no one to open the door when i get home.”

“right,” you nodded, trying to maintain the semblance of normalcy. you didn’t need to fill the silence anymore; you were both ghosts of the friendship that once thrived in easy conversation. “i can walk in with these if you want. help you put them wherever, since it’s hard to carry everything together-”

“it’s okay,” he interrupted, his tone clipped, a habit you had grown all too familiar with. “i can take care of myself.”

your lips pressed together, frustration simmering beneath the surface. “alright then,” you replied, the words tasting bitter as they left your mouth.

but as you turned toward your front yard, the moment shattered into a sharp breath. “why did you stop walking home with me?” his voice rang out into the twilight, a challenge hanging between you like a fragile thread.

the world around you fell silent, the air thick with unspoken words. the confrontation hung in the space between you, an echo of the past colliding with the reality of the present. you hesitated, heart racing, caught in the tension of a friendship unravelling, desperately wanting to answer but unsure of how to put the fragments of your feelings into words. "you weren't yourself, i guess. that, and i heard you say something about me to someone. but never mind that. it doesn't matter anymore."

“what?” he furrows his brows, confusion etching deep lines on his forehead. “what do you mean you heard me say something about you to someone? what the hell did i even say for this to happen to us?”

“didn’t you want this to happen?” you retort, your words tumbling out like a well-rehearsed line from a play. “i thought you found me gross.”

he blinks, taken aback, his surprise evident in the widening of his eyes. “when did i ever say i found you gross? what is wrong with you?”

“what is wrong with me?” you echo, the fire in your chest igniting into a full blaze. you’re not quite sure where this rage is coming from, but it feels exhilarating and terrifying all at once. “what’s wrong with me is that it was my fault for ever loving you and thinking you could feel the same because you’re a selfish prick! you’re oblivious and dense and you don’t feel the same way about me, so i left because i didn’t want to be in a place where i wasn’t needed-”

realization crashes over you like a tidal wave in mid-sentence, the weight of your words suffocating. a hand flies to cover your mouth, the confession hanging in the air like an uninvited guest. his expression morphs into one of shock, the volleyball slipping from his grasp and hitting the pavement with a dull thud.

you can’t bear to see the hurt in his eyes, the way his world seems to tilt on its axis, so you turn and flee, heart racing as you dart into your house, slamming the door behind you. the echo of your confession reverberates in your mind, each heartbeat reminding you of what you just unleashed—a truth that feels like it could shatter everything.

you avoided him for months after that moment, but still, you found yourself at every game, an invisible presence in the crowd. you watched as karasuno faced off against kamomedai, your heart aching with every spike and serve, each point a reminder of the distance that had grown between you. tobio had transformed into someone new, shedding his egotistical shell like a snake sloughing off its skin, and finding camaraderie with teammates who genuinely cared for him.

it filled you with anger. why couldn’t he have made this change years ago? if only he had, maybe letting go of your feelings would have been easier. instead, you felt trapped on the sidelines of his life, a spectator to a story that once intertwined your paths.

“w-what are you doing here?” a shaky voice pulls you from your thoughts as you exit the gym. you turn, startled, to find kageyama tobio standing before you. his chest heaves with exertion, droplets of sweat glistening on his skin, and he gazes at you as if you were a relic he had lost long ago.

“i... came to watch the game,” you reply, shrugging, trying to sound casual. “you did good. i hope your friend isn’t injured, by the way.”

“yeah... he’s uh- hinata’s fine,” he nods, his words a soft echo in the tense air. “thank you for coming. it means a lot.”

you press your lips into a straight line, nodding, the weight of the moment heavy between you. it feels like the right time to leave, to escape the growing tension, but he continues.

“i felt the same way about you back then,” he says, and your heart drops, your feet seemingly glued to the ground. his melancholic gaze pierces through you, and the heartbreak looms overhead like a storm cloud ready to burst. “i’m sorry if i hurt you.”

“y-you what?” you whisper, tilting your head as disbelief washes over you. “tobio, you-”

“i can’t say i feel that way now. all i can focus on from now on is volleyball,” he sighs, his gaze falling to the floor, the weight of his words suffocating. “but it really was great being friends with you. i hope we can... try that again sometime.”

in that moment, something within you shatters, the pieces scattering like autumn leaves in a gust of wind. you realize how deeply you had clung to him, how he had become the center of your universe; an object of desire you could never grasp. slowly, painfully, he had outgrown you, moving forward as you remained rooted in the past, a decision you made to push him away when he needed you the most.

perhaps this was what you deserved. perhaps this was how it was meant to be—him, chasing his dreams like icarus, and you, watching from the side lines, heart heavy with the weight of unfulfilled wishes and lost chances.

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Versace heels

pairing: hyunjin x afab!reader

genre: smut

word count: 3k

warnings: not proofread, switch!reader, switch!hyunjin, foot/high heel fetish (she steps on him), light bondage, degradation, foot worship, shoe kissing, oral (f), unprotected sex, cumshot, cum eating

a/n: saw this post by @hyungszn and had to do this as soon as i woke up. i wrote this in 2 hours and i'm unwell. hope y'all like it hehe🫶🏻

~ Masterlist

Your eyes scan the crowd at the Versace after party, a glass of champagne held delicately between your fingers, your manicured nails tapping the side of it in time with the music.

As you're taking a sip of the sweet, fruity drink your eyes land on his.

You know he's been checking you out all night, mirroring your pose in this moment, trying to hide the smirk forming on his face behind the glass.

He's been waiting for the right moment, when the lights dimmed, couples and friends making their way to the dancefloor as he made his way to you.

He seemed to glide towards you as you gave him a smirk, your eyes hooded as you never took them off of him, setting your glass on the table next to you.

"Care to dance?" he reaches his hand towards you and you place yours in his palm, sliding your fingertips along his slender fingers.

"Lead the way." you say, a little breathless as he takes you to the dancefloor.

Like magnets, you're pulled close to each other as his hands land on your waist and yours wrap around his shoulders.

"You look beautiful tonight." he whispers with a smile.

"You always say that." you chuckle.

"It's the truth." Hyunjin's eyes seem to sparkle under the lights.

You look around to check if anyone is watching the two of you, noticing that everyone was in their own world you lean closer to him.

"You wanna get out of here?" you whisper and Hyunjin lets out a giggle as he leans his cheek on yours.

"Let'a just dance a little bit more."

A romantic, slow melody fills up the space as you close your eyes and take a deep breath in, breathing Hyunjin in, feeling nostalgic after not seeing him for months.

His hands slide to your lower back, tracing patterns in your exposed skin, his fingertips dipping to the swell of your ass.

Your fingers tangle in his hair as the two of you move side to side, twirling slowly in a circle, one you've danced many times before.

"There are empty rooms upstairs." Hyunjin whispers suddenly and you chuckle.

"Took you long to suggest that." you say sarcastically, making him pinch the flesh on your ass teasingly.

"It was you who wanted to skip the dance." he says as he takes your hand in his, your fingers entwined.

You only chuckle, leading him through the crowd, away from the dancefloor and the curious looks.

Hyunjin is impatient, his body craving yours, and he presses you against the wall in the hallway, his lips smashing into yours before you can even realize what's happening.

You squeal and with a smile against his lips, you melt into the kiss and the familiarity of it all, hand in his hair again, pulling on the locks slightly as he squeezes your hips.

"You have lipstick all over you now." you giggle, your thumb coming up to wipe away the red lipstick that smeared with your heated kiss.

"I missed you." he leans his forehead on yours, closing his eyes with a longing look on his face.

"I missed you too, Jinnie." you say, leaving a little peck on his plump lips.

You make your way upstairs, giggling and excited to finally have each other close.

Finding one of the empty bedrooms in the mansion, Hyunjin quickly closes and locks the door.

As soon as he turns to look at you, you grip his tie and pull him close to you, crashing your lips on his in a passionate kiss, your tongues dancing together, teeth clashing and spit dribbling down your chin but you don't care how messy it is.

"I really love that dress on you." he breathes hard, his eyes now darker.

"But what I love even more are those heels you're wearing." he adds, licking his lips.

"Oh yeah? I think the heels are always your favorite part of my outfits." you smirk, both of you already knowing what's coming next.

"They are." Hyunjin bites on his lip, his eyes travel between your face and your feet.

"Take off your jacket first." you say, your eyes swimming with lust as you remove the silky scarf that was adorning your shoulders.

Hyunjin tosses his jacket on the chair beside him and reaches his hands towards you.

Without any words, you wrap the scarf around his wrists slowly, your eyes never leaving his as you tie it, securing it in place so that he can't get his hands out of it, his lips fall open as he breathes hard and looks at you lustfully.

"Good?" you caress his wrist with your thumb.

"Good." he confirms.

"Lay down on the floor, Hyunjin." your voice is sultry and Hyunjin gasps in something that sounds like a mix of relief and excitement, immediately obeying your order and laying down on the floor, his tied hands above his head.

You chuckle at the state of him as you stand next to his legs before you start slowly circling his body, your heels clicking on the hard wood beside Hyunjin, making his cock twitch as he stares at your feet, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

Excitement builds inside him as he follows your movement, his eyes almost rolling back as you step above his head.

You stop once your feet are next to his chest, on the other side of where you stood before and Hyunjin's eyes travel from your feet all the way up to your face.

With a smirk, you place your heel on his chest, only lightly pressing into him and his breath gets caught in his throat.

"Is this what you want, my pretty prince?" you tease him as he looks at your foot.

"Y-yes, please." Hyunjin whimpers, his fingers gripping at the silk around his wrists.

You step on him a little harder and he moans, his cock straining against his tight pants.

Enjoying the power you have over him in this moment, you raise your heel until the bottom of your shoe hovers over his lips and he looks up at you with eyes wide.

"Kiss it." you say simply and the guttural sound that leaves his lips goes straight to your core.

Hyunjin presses his lips into the bottom of your shoe and you snicker, pressing back into him a little.

"That's it, worship the ground I walked on." the smirk on your face is borderline evil as Hyunjin kisses your shoe.

You remove your heel from his face and press on his chest again and Hyunjin whines, his lower body arching up as his hard cock leaks inside his boxers.

"Already so worked up and you only kissed my shoe? Pathetic, really." you make a tsk sound and Hyunjin babbles as you step between his legs.

"Y/n." he whines when you bring your heel close to his throbbing cock.

"Please." he begs.

"Please what, prince?"

"Step on me, please." Hyunjin whimpers, his fingers white from the way he's pressing them into his palm.

"Gladly." you smirk, pressing your shoe into his balls.

Hyunjin yelps, pushing up into you and trying to grind against your heel.

You press harder, making him still his movement and whimper as you massage his balls with your shoe.

Sliding it up over his erection, makes him twitch against you, as you press lightly running the sole over his hard cock, the heel pressing slightly into his balls.

"You're so pathetic, you could cum just from this." you chuckle and Hyunjin just whines, grinding against your shoe, the pain you bring him as you press harder into him makes him leak even more.

"Oh my god, y/n!" he shakes when you remove your foot.

"Pretty." you chuckle. "Come, kneel." you add and Hyunjin scrambles to his knees, his hands resting in his lap as he shifts uncomfortably, his erection pressing against the tight pants making it difficult to kneel properly.

"Thank me for stepping on you."

Hyunjin immediately leans down, his tied hands coming up to grab at your heels as his lips make contact with the straps of the heels and the skin peeking between them.

He kisses your shoe and foot desperately, like he's making out with it, dragging his bottom lip on your skin, his tongue darting out to lick at your toes as much as he can under the strap.

His lips wrap around the tips of your toes, sucking on them a little, before he keeps leaving wet kisses on the top of your foot, to your ankle, kissing the strap that holds the entire heel.

He does the same to your other foot, before he grips both of your feet with his big hands, his fingers sliding up to caress your ankle.

He looks up at you desperately and sees you're just as desperate, your eyes dark and hooded as you keep pressing your thighs together, your arousal wetting your panties and inner thighs.

"Did I do good?" he smirks.

"Perfect." you nod and he reaches his hands up to you so you can untie him.

As you do, Hyunjin stands up and as soon as his hands are free, he grips your waist and leads you to the bed in the middle of the room.

Pushing you down to sit, he kneels between your legs again, the sight you love the most as he grips your ankles again and slides his hands slowly up your calves to your knees, then to your thighs as he spreads them.

You scoot closer to the edge of the bed, and Hyunjin grips your legs lifting them over his shoulders and bunching your dress up.

The sight of your wet lacy panties makes him groan and he buries his face between your legs instantly, kissing your cunt under the lace.

"Hyunjin!" you whimper and he smirks against you, his tongue licking at the wetness seeping through as he inhales deeply, drunk on your smell and taste.

"You don't need these." he grips the panties and slides them off, putting them aside before he buries his face back between your legs.

Your thighs shake against his shoulders as you tangle your hand in his hair and pull while he kisses your pussy and flicks your clit with his wet tongue.

He licks a stripe over your pussy before kissing your wet folds.

"So wet for me." he smirks and you whimper, gripping at his hair harder, making him groan as he pushes his tongue between your folds, tasting you and drinking from you, his hands gripping at your thighs harshly, bound to leave marks.

You lose it immediately, you know you're weak for him as he is for you.

You hold his head down as he eats you out desperately, spitting on your pussy and pushing it back in, mixing with your juices that dribble down his chin.

You start fucking up into his face and Hyunjin moans into you, his nose pressing into your sensitive clit.

"I'm gonna cum!" your legs shake and clamp around his head, making Hyunjin whine as he buries his face even harder into you, his tongue fucking your warmth skilfully and he grips your right leg, pushing it open as his slender fingers wrap around your ankle, palm pressed against the top of your foot.

You moan his name loudly as you explode, painting his face and tongue in your creamy release and Hyunjin moans with you, rutting against the bed unintentionally as he squeezes your foot and laps you up, swallowing your cum.

"Fuck, I missed your taste." he licks at his lips as your legs fall down.

"Hyunjin, come here and fuck me." you moan desperately, the foreplay you two have always gets you desperate for more.

"My princess needs to feel full, hm?" Hyunjin smirks cockily as he stands up, undoing his belt.

"Mm yes, please." you spread your legs as he lets his pants and boxers fall down to his ankles.

He steps out of his shoes and kicks his pants off.

You watch as he leans over you, kneeling between your legs, your hands coming up to unbutton his shirt as his slide your dress up until he pulls it over your head, your breasts spilling out for him.

"Mm." Hyunjin moans, hands gripping your tits before he leans down and licks at your nipple, his pretty lips wrapping around it and sucking gently as he looks up at you.

You slide his shirt off, throwing it aside and Hyunjin lifts up.

"Leave the heels on, princess."

"Of course." you breathe out in anticipation.

He towers over you as he straightens up, his hands on your right calf before he brings your foot up to his face and presses kisses into the front of your shoe, his tongue darting out to lick at your toes.

"Hyunjin." you moan for the nth time tonight and he chuckles with a smirk, before he hoists your legs up over his shoulders, the tip of his cock pressing against your velvety folds and you gasp as he pushes in easily, your cunt welcoming all of him in like always, always pliant when he returns home.

Desperate as he is, he starts fucking into you steadily, pulling his cock out almost to the tip before pushing it back deep inside you, his balls smacking against you every time his throbbing tip kisses your cervix.

Both of you moan in unison, not caring if anyone can hear you on the other side of the door and Hyunjin kisses your thighs, sinking his teeth into the supple flesh as you grip at the sheets beneath you, crying out in pleasure.

He looks down where his cock disappears inside you, the white creme of your arousal making him twitch as he grips at you, pushing one of your legs to your shoulder, he grabs the heel of your shoe and holds onto it as he starts fucking into you wildly.

"You're always so fucking perfect for me, princess." Hyunjin growls, the sounds of skin slapping skin fill up the room, the feeling of his cock pistoning inside you knocks the breath out of your lungs.

You know you're close already and Hyunjin can tell too by the way you clench around him and he brings your foot to his lips, pressing them into your ankle, kissing and nipping at the skin, before his tongue licks between the straps and you come undone on his cock, coating him in more wetness.

"Fuck!" you whimper as he keeps fucking you through your high and further, all the while holding onto your heel, kissing and licking at your skin.

He makes you cum around his length in mere seconds, your orgasm washing over you even harder than before as your body trembles under him.

"I'm close princess, please let me cum on your feet." Hyunjin begs, his hands gripping at your thighs as he slows down a little just to keep himself from cumming, the languid motions make you feel lightheaded.

You nod quickly and he pulls out as you push your legs together, folding them up to press your thighs on your breasts.

"Ah, darling!" Hyunjin whines as he jerks his cock above your feet, the tip touching your skin and pressing into your toes before he twitches hard, spurts of cum landing on your Versace heels, your toes, ankles and up.

He grips at your thigh for purchase as his eyes roll back while he cums hard all over your legs.

"Shit!" Hyunjin trembles as your legs fall down and you smirk, gripping his hair and leading his face down.

Hyunjin's tongue immediately darts out to lick at the cum that landed on you, enjoying the way you let him kiss and lick at your feet and heels.

He laps everything up, swallowing his cum as he leaves little kisses on your toes, up to your ankles again, before he leans his cheek on your calf and you chuckle at him.

"My prince." you whisper and he smiles sweetly at you, his eyes becoming little slits, his dimples showing as he sits up.

"Will you go out to dinner with me this time?" he asks hopefully, hands never getting off of your feet.

"I'm leaving on the weekend, Hyunjin. You know this could never work out. We live in different time zones, we lead different lives." you shake your head, not wanting to dwell on the feelings you inevitably developed over the last two years where you'd meet him up like this, in secret, only to get dressed and leave as soon as you're done, acting like nothing had happened between you.

"Then we have time until the weekend." Hyunjin is stubborn as always as you try to move away from him, his arms grip your thighs and he pulls you back into him, making you squeal as your legs wrap around his middle.

"Hyun..." you start but he stops you with his lips pressed to yours.

"You know there's no one else I'd love to try to work it out with. Even with the different time zones and lives, I want you y/n."

"Fine. We can have dinner." you cave as he keeps leaving kisses on your neck and jaw, you know you'd give into him eventually anyways.

"I promise I'll make it work, princess." Hyunjin looks at you sweetly.

"I trust you." you whisper, and he smiles lovingly at you before it turns to a smirk.

"Don't forget to wear heels to dinner."

✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @s3ungm1nxxl0ve