#i hope each one of you know that each of your characters have made me who i am today and what values i hold.

[inseobts]

Captain

characters: luffy, law, shanks, kid and ace

inspired by: 'Captain' - Kang Seungyoon || spotify || youtube || apple music

a/n: hope this doesn't suck tbh

words count: around 1.0k - 1.5k each

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

── .✦ Luffy:

The sun is hot on your back as you lean over the Sunny’s railing. Waves crash below, sparkling like tiny stars in the ocean.

You sigh, but it’s not a sad sigh, just… tired.

Luffy’s jacket hangs off your shoulders, far too big, smelling faintly of salt and him. He’d dropped it on you earlier without a word, like he always did. Just something that happened now, the way you always saved the last bite of your food for him, or how he tucked your hair behind your ear when you weren’t paying attention.

“Oi! You’re making a weird face!”

You jump a little, turning around fast.

Luffy’s standing behind you, hands on his hips, grinning like he knows something you don’t. Which he usually does.

“I am not” you say.

“You are” he says “That’s your thinking-too-much face. I don’t like that one.”

You squint at him “You don’t like my face?”

Luffy laughs and walks up, grabbing your hand “Nah. I like your laughing face way better.”

Your heart does that stupid flip again. Luffy is always like this… saying small, silly things that hit you like cannonballs. You wonder if he even realizes what they do to you, or if he just lives like this, naturally, saying the exact thing you need to hear without trying.

He tugs your arm “Come eat meat with me.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You will be when you see Sanji’s new meatball thing. He said he made it just for me. That means it’s good.”

You don’t want to argue, so you follow him. His hand stays in yours as you walk. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t even think about it, like holding your hand is the most natural thing in the world.

And maybe it is. Maybe with him, all the strange, lovely things you thought you'd never have just… are.

The kitchen is loud. Usopp and Chopper are arguing about who can eat more. Sanji is yelling at Zoro to stop drinking straight from the soup pot. Nami rolls her eyes at everything. And through it all, Luffy’s hand stays in yours until he lets go just to sit.

Luffy sits down at the table and pats the spot next to him “Here. Sit.”

You sit.

Sanji brings over a plate with a small mountain of meatballs.

“Special recipe” he says, setting it down.

“Only for idiots who eat too fast and the people dumb enough to love them.”

“Yay!” Luffy cheers “That’s me!”

You raise an eyebrow at Sanji. He just smirks and walks off.

Luffy hands you a meatball. You take it. You chew slowly. He doesn’t. He shovels in three at once and nearly chokes. You thump his back.

“Maybe you shouldn’t eat too fast” you say.

“Too good,” he says between bites “Can’t stop.”

You laugh a little. He grins at you with his mouth full, face messy, eyes shining.

And somehow, in that moment, you feel more at home than you’ve ever felt on land. You bump your foot lightly against his under the table and don’t pull it away. He nudges back without missing a beat.

Later, when everyone’s tired and full, and the stars are peeking out, Luffy sits on the deck with you again. He lies down and folds his arms behind his head.

“Did you still have the weird face?”

“No” you say softly.

“Good.”

There’s a pause. The wind is gentle tonight. Your fingers inch toward his on the wooden deck until they touch. He doesn’t say anything, just shifts his pinky so it loops around yours.

You look at him and wonder if he knows. If he knows how much he saved you. If he knows that before this ship, before him, life felt so small.

“You’re thinking again” he says without opening his eyes.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be your captain forever, y’know.”

You blink “What?”

Luffy opens one eye and smiles at you.

“Even if you leave the crew. Even if you fly away like a bird. I’ll still be your captain. Okay?”

Your throat feels tight. You don’t say anything. You just nod and lie down next to him.

The stars look different from here. Brighter. Bigger.

Just like everything since you met him.

That night you have a nightmare... you often dream of fire.

It’s not real, not anymore. But the smoke curls around your chest when you wake up, and your heart races like you’re still running.

You sit up fast, hand on your chest. You're sweating.

The bed is warm beside you, a tangle of blankets and the faint imprint of Luffy’s sleeping form. He must’ve gone when he felt you stir.

Outside, the sea is calm. The ship creaks gently like it’s breathing.

You step outside the bedroom, careful not to wake anyone. The deck is dark, quiet. The kind of quiet that feels too loud when you’re carrying a storm inside.

You lean on the railing, gripping it hard. Trying to stop your hands from shaking.

You don’t hear Luffy approach. You never do.

“Bad dream?” he says softly.

You nod.

He doesn’t ask more. He just sits beside you on the wooden deck, cross-legged like a kid.

You look at him. He’s staring out at the ocean.

You whisper, “I wasn’t a good person before this. I did some things... things I can’t forget.”

Luffy shrugs “That’s okay.”

You blink “Okay?”

“You’re good now.”

Your breath catches “But—”

“I don’t care what you did. I care what you do now. You protect people. You laugh with us. You love this ship.”

You bite your lip “Sometimes I think I don’t deserve to be happy.”

Luffy’s head tilts “Why?”

“Because I hurt people. I made bad choices.”

He frowns, serious now “Everyone hurts people. Even me. You ever see me not punch someone?”

“That’s different.”

“Why?” he says “Because I’m the captain?”

You open your mouth, then close it.

He scoots closer, his leg bumping yours “Listen. I don’t pick people because they’re perfect. I pick people who need a place. You needed one. So I gave you mine.”

Your eyes sting.

“And if you’re scared sometimes... that’s fine. I’ll be scared with you.”

You let out a shaky laugh “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Luffy grins “Thanks.”

Then he does something rare.

He reaches out and pulls you into a hug.

It’s warm and a little awkward, his chin bumps your shoulder, but his arms are strong. Solid.

Safe.

You lean into him, just for a second. Just long enough to feel like maybe… maybe you can breathe again.

“I still got you,” he says “No matter what.”

The next morning, you’re quiet at breakfast.

Not sad, just full in a way that makes your chest feel warm. Luffy sits beside you like always, stealing half your toast without asking.

You don’t stop him. You just shake your head like you always do and let your knee rest against his under the table.

“Oi, Luffy, chew!” Sanji shouts from the stove “Don’t scare them off with your lizard face.”

Luffy puffs out his cheeks “I am chewing!”

You shake your head “Barely.”

He grins at you with crumbs on his lips “You finally smiled.”

“Huh?”

“You smiled at me,” he says, like it’s some great discovery “I like that.”

You feel your cheeks heat up.

Chopper climbs onto the bench next to you “You look different today,” he says thoughtfully “Lighter.”

“Maybe you finally slept” Nami adds, sipping her coffee.

“Maybe someone got a good hug last night...” Usopp says, wiggling his eyebrows.

You nearly choke on your juice.

Luffy doesn’t react “I give good hugs.”

Zoro snorts from across the table “Not with those rubbery arms.”

You stare down at your plate, smiling to yourself.

Later, you’re helping Robin tie down books in the library when Luffy finds you again. He peeks in like a kid looking for snacks.

“There you are!” he says “Come with me.”

You follow him without asking where. That’s just how it is with Luffy. You trust him.

He takes you to the upper deck where it’s quieter. The sea stretches out endlessly, sky blue and soft.

He sits on the edge and pats the spot next to him. You sit.

“I was thinking,” he says, picking at the brim of his hat “About last night.”

You look at him, curious.

“You said you didn’t deserve to be happy.”

Your chest tightens again.

He leans back on his hands “But you look happy now.”

You nod slowly “I am.”

He grins “Told you. I’m a good captain.”

You laugh a little “You are.”

Then, softly, you say it “This happiness I have right now… it was gained simply by listening to you and following your lead.”

Luffy tilts his head, eyes wide and bright “Really?”

You nod “You gave me a place. You didn’t even know me, and you still let me stay.”

“I knew enough,” he says “You were lost. I don’t leave lost people behind.”

You look down, fiddling with the seam of your shirt “I think I was scared to feel like this. Like I belong.”

“You do.”

You glance up. His face is open, honest—Luffy in his rare, still moments.

“You really think I belong here?” you whisper.

He nods “You belong with me.”

Your breath catches.

Not “with the crew”.

Not “on the ship”.

With him.

── .✦ Law:

The storm isn’t just outside.

It’s in the way Law walks the deck—slow, sharp steps, as if each one might cut the wood beneath his feet.

You watch from where you sit near the stairs, arms tucked around your knees. He hasn’t spoken in hours.

The sky above is black. Thunder grumbles like it’s trying to decide if it wants to scream.

He doesn’t flinch.

“Go inside” he says suddenly, without looking at you.

You stay where you are.

“I said—”

“I heard you.”

Silence again.

Then: “The wind’s picking up.”

“I’m fine.”

He turns his head just enough to glance at you, eyes narrowing “You’re stubborn.”

You shrug “You’re angry.”

“I’m thinking.”

“Loudly.”

He exhales through his nose—one of those short, sharp sounds that’s not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh.

You unfold your legs and stand, walking slowly until you’re beside him. Close, but not touching.

Close enough to feel the heat of him. Close enough that if you leaned in just slightly, your shoulder would brush his. But you don’t. Not yet.

“Is it about the intel?”

“No.”

“Then it’s about the crew.”

“No.”

“Then it’s about you.”

He says nothing.

The waves crash hard against the hull. Somewhere below deck, Bepo is probably pacing, waiting for the worst of the storm to pass.

But Law… Law doesn’t wait for anything. He carries storms inside him and tries to outpace them with silence.

You speak softly “Be at ease.”

He turns to look at you now, not annoyed, just… tired.

Your hand drifts to his arm, fingers barely grazing the fabric of his sleeve. You step in, gently, like approaching a wild thing. Like you’ve done this before—offering comfort without taking anything away.

“Let me watch your back now,” you continue, voice steady “My captain.”

His eyes search your face like he’s reading something in a language he forgot long ago.

“I don’t need—”

“I know.”

You take a step closer, your fingers brushing his coat sleeve.

“I’m not offering because you need it. I’m offering because you deserve it.”

His jaw tightens.

You shift your hand just enough to slide your fingers into his, letting them rest there—quiet and warm.

“Someone has to carry the weight when you can’t,” you add “Let it be me, even if it’s just tonight.”

For a long time, he doesn’t respond.

Then finally, he murmurs, “You talk too much.”

You smile “And yet you’re still listening.”

He doesn’t smile back but his shoulders drop, just slightly. And when the next gust of wind hits, he doesn’t flinch.

Because you’re there.

Because someone’s finally watching his back.

You lean in and press a kiss to his shoulder, not dramatic, just grounding. A promise. You feel him shift slightly toward you, almost imperceptibly.

The storm passes, but the cold stays.

You and Law sit under the overhang near the helm, out of the rain but not the wind. The ship creaks with each wave, but now it’s calmer. The kind of quiet that always feels like something is waiting.

He hasn’t spoken since you told him you’d watch his back.

But he’s still here.

You’re still here.

And that’s something.

You let your head rest lightly against his shoulder. His arm doesn’t move for a long moment, then slowly, tentatively, he curls it behind you, just enough that your bodies lean into one another.

“I thought you’d leave” he says at last, voice low.

You glance at him “When?”

“After Dressrosa. After the Doflamingo fight. Most people would’ve.”

“I’m not most people.”

He makes a soft sound in his throat, something between agreement and disbelief.

Then he says it.

“I didn’t expect you to stay this long.”

You blink “Did you want me to go?”

“No” he says too quickly. Then quieter “I just thought you would.”

You wrap your arms around your knees, watching the wet deck glisten under the moonlight.

“People leave you a lot, don’t they?”

He doesn’t answer.

You don’t need him to.

You reach over and take his hand again, threading your fingers through his with the same steady warmth you always give him. Your thumb traces soft circles over the back of his hand.

You take a slow breath and shift to face him more fully.

“You don’t always have to be the one doing the saving, Law.”

His head tilts, just slightly.

You lean forward but not too close, just enough to be clear.

“I’ll protect you now.”

The wind blows your hair into your face. You don’t move it.

He’s staring at you like he doesn’t understand the words. Like no one’s ever said them to him before and meant it.

“You think I need protection?” he asks, but there’s no bite in it. No challenge.

You smile “I think you’re tired of carrying everything alone.”

For a second, just a second, his expression softens.

Not in a dramatic way. Not like in the stories.

But his eyes lose that sharp edge.

He leans back against the wood behind him, shoulders dropping just a bit more than before. As if, maybe, he’s letting the idea settle.

Letting you settle.

You shift closer again and kiss his cheek, soft and slow, just near the corner of his mouth. He closes his eyes like he’s soaking in the quiet.

You don’t push it. You just sit with him, in the silence, your presence a quiet promise:

He’s not alone anymore.

The cold settles around you both like a second skin, but here, pressed close, there’s a different kind of warmth.

You lean into him slowly, head resting against his chest this time, right where you can hear his heartbeat. At first, he’s stiff. Not resisting, but still wired tight, like his body doesn’t quite remember how to relax.

You wrap your arms around his middle, pulling him into a soft, secure hold.

He lets out a breath against your hair. It’s quiet. Almost disbelieving.

“You don’t have to be alone anymore,” you murmur into his coat “Not with me.”

You feel it when something in him finally begins to loosen. Not all at once. Not dramatically. But like a knot unspooling deep inside.

His hand comes up, hesitant at first, then rests on the back of your head. His fingers thread gently into your hair, and you close your eyes at the feeling.

He doesn’t speak.

You tilt your face up toward him.

His gaze meets yours, wary, but no longer guarded. He’s let you in. At least a little. Enough.

You smile softly “Come here.”

And before he can argue, before he can overthink it, you press your lips to his.

One kiss.

Then another. Then another.

Soft and fast, like raindrops. Like a flurry of promises falling out of you all at once, impossible to hold back.

You kiss the corner of his mouth, his top lip, the edge of his jaw, then back to his mouth again.

With each kiss, you whisper:

“I will protect you now”

“My boss”

“My leader”

“My hero”

“My captain”

“My love.”

And something in him just… gives.

His breath hitches. His hands tighten around you, not pulling you away, but drawing you in. Letting you have him like this.

He exhales like surrender. His voice is barely above a whisper.

“…Fine. Do whatever you want.”

You press your forehead to his, smiling against his skin.

“I already am.”

And he doesn’t push you away. He doesn’t retreat behind silence.

He stays.

Wrapped up in your arms. Your warmth. Your words. Your kisses.

For once, Law lets himself be held.

── .✦ Shanks:

The first time you see him, it’s not on purpose.

You’re in a quiet port town, just passing through. Hiding, really. The kind of hiding that doesn’t involve running, it just means standing still long enough for the world to forget you.

Then the bar door opens.

And he walks in like he owns the ocean.

Red hair. Wide grin. A laugh that fills the room before he even speaks.

“Oi, Benn! I told you I could smell meat from a mile off!”

You glance up once and then away. You know who he is. Of course you do. Red-Haired Shanks. One of the Four Emperors. A name that carries storms.

You sip your drink and try not to look again.

It doesn’t work.

He notices.

You end up at the same table, somehow. He’s charming like that, pulls people in like the tide.

“What’s your story?” he asks casually, swirling his drink.

You shake your head “No story.”

“Everyone has one.”

“Not me.”

He smiles “You’re a terrible liar.”

You laugh despite yourself. It’s small. But he hears it.

“You’ve been drifting,” he says “I can tell.”

You pause “That obvious?”

He shrugs “Only to someone who’s done the same.”

Later, you’re sitting with him by the docks, the sea stretching out like a painting. He’s quieter now. Thoughtful.

You speak without meaning to.

“On a sea called loneliness… I’d come to lose my way.”

He turns toward you slowly, listening.

“My vision was dark. I didn’t know where I was going. I didn’t even know what I was looking for.”

Shanks doesn’t interrupt.

“But a single sailboat came close.”

He smiles faintly.

“And that happy ending became our story.”

He chuckles under his breath “You’re poetic when you’ve had rum.”

You smile, but it doesn’t fade.

“You’re the first person who didn’t ask me to explain why I left. Or who I used to be.”

“I don’t care who you were,” he says gently “Only who you are when you’re with me.”

The sea breeze lifts your hair. His eyes flick to it, and stay there a moment too long.

You don’t speak again for a while. There’s no need.

Two drifters. One sailboat. And, maybe, the start of something that doesn’t have to end in loneliness.

Years Later

The sun hangs low, golden and lazy, casting soft light across the deck of the Red Force.

Shanks is half-asleep in a chair near the railing, hat pulled down over his eyes. You’re sitting not far, feet propped up, notebook balanced on your knee. You don’t write often, at least not like this, but today feels different.

You glance at him. He’s relaxed, arms crossed loosely, the breeze playing with the hem of his coat.

Years ago, he was chaos walking. A whirlwind with a smile.

Now?

He’s still chaos. But he’s yours.

You smile and press your pen to the page.

“On a sea called L-O-V-E,

The sunlight dazzles as it reflects upon the water.

On that sailboat over there, are two people—

Just a captain and a sailor.

And that happy ending is our story.”

You pause.

Then close the notebook, leave it on the small table beside him, and go below deck. You don’t say anything. You don’t need to.

Later, just before dinner, he finds you in the galley. One arm wraps lazily around your waist from behind, pulling you in.

“I read what you wrote” he murmurs near your ear.

“Oh?”

“It was missing one thing.”

You raise a brow, glancing back at him “Yeah?”

He presses his forehead to yours “The part where the sailor becomes captain of the captain.”

You laugh, soft and full.

“In your dreams maybe” you tease.

“In our story” he corrects, grinning.

You shake your head and kiss him anyway.

It’s meant to be quick, teasing, familiar.

But Shanks doesn’t let go. His hand cups the back of your neck, thumb brushing the edge of your jaw as he kisses you again, slower this time. Deeper. Like he’s been waiting all day for this one quiet moment.

You melt into him. The galley fades, the ship fades, even the sea feels quieter.

When you finally pull apart, your forehead rests against his. Neither of you speaks right away. You don’t need to.

He closes his eye, brushing his nose against yours “You still take my breath away, you know that?”

You smile against his lips “Even when I’m just trying to steal your coat?”

“Especially then.”

He leans back, just enough to reach into his coat pocket and pulls out something small, wrapped in an old cloth. He unwraps it with care, revealing a silver ring etched with faint waves.

“Was gonna wait,” he says softly, “but then I read what you wrote.”

Your breath catches.

“It’s not a proposal, not exactly,” he continues, “but it’s a promise. That whatever seas we sail, whatever storm hits… I’m yours. No matter what.”

You stare at the ring, heart swelling in your chest “Shanks…”

He slides it onto your finger, his touch feather-light “You don’t need to wear it if you don’t want. I just... I just wanted you to have something that says what I can’t always say.”

You take his hand in yours, kissing his knuckles “You already say it. Every time you look at me like I’m not just part of your crew, but like I'm part of you.”

He chuckles, a little unsteady “You are.”

The kiss you give him now isn’t playful. It’s reverent. Grateful. Fierce and fragile all at once.

Afterward, you whisper, “My captain. My anchor.”

He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then your forehead, murmuring between each one:

“My light. My home. My heart.”

Later, beneath a sky dusted with stars, you lie curled in the hammock together—his coat draped over both your shoulders, his hand resting over yours, thumb absently brushing the ring now on your finger.

He presses a kiss to your temple and murmurs, “I used to chase the horizon. But then I found you.”

You smile into his chest.

“I’ll chase it with you,” you say softly “As long as you want.”

He holds you tighter.

“Forever sounds good to me.”

And with the steady lull of the sea beneath you and the warmth of him around you, you sleep in the safest place you’ve ever known.

── .✦ Kid:

The ship is on fire.

Well, not literally. But that’s what it feels like after the ambush.

Scorched sails. Blood on the deck. Your ribs ache, bruised or maybe cracked, and Killer’s bleeding from his arm, trying to stop Heat from collapsing.

Kid is in the middle of it all, rage and metal, torn coat, growling orders no one can follow fast enough.

“Damn it, where’s WIRE?!”

“Dead if we don’t patch him now!” you shout back, dragging your half-burned jacket off to wrap someone else’s wound.

He doesn’t answer. His jaw is clenched tight, eyes scanning everything like he’s trying to hold the whole crew together with nothing but anger and magnets.

But you’re not afraid.

You’ve seen him like this before. Broken knuckles. Cracked teeth. And still standing. Still fighting.

Still trying.

He doesn’t realize you’re next to him until your hand grabs his shoulder.

“Kid.”

He glances at you, blood across his cheek, chest rising like a storm trying not to explode.

“We’re not dead,” you say “We’re still here.”

He scoffs “Barely.”

You shake your head “You always think surviving means losing.”

“Because it is,” he snarls “Every fight takes something from us.”

“Now just breath” you snap, stepping closer “Look at me.”

His eyes go wide.

You don’t blink.

“I’ll follow you. I’ll follow you ‘til the end of my days.”

The words hit the air like thunder, loud, real, and permanent.

You lift your chin with your biggest smile.

“YES, SIR.”

Something shifts in his face, not softness, not yet. But a crack. A flicker. The kind of look someone gets when they realize they’re not alone.

His voice is low.

“You’re not scared of me?”

You grin.

“I was.”

“And now?”

“I’m yours.”

And for once, Kid doesn’t argue.

He just takes your hand, calloused and shaking, and holds on like it might be the only thing left that doesn’t burn.

The ship’s quiet now.

Not peaceful but quiet. The kind of silence that settles after screaming, after gunfire, after the medics say “He’s gonna make it” and you finally let yourself breathe.

You check on everyone first. Heat’s stable. Killer’s stitches are clean. Wire’s conscious.

Only after you’ve made sure the others are resting you walk down the hall to his door.

It’s half open.

You knock once anyway.

“…It’s open” Kid’s voice grunts from inside.

You step in.

He’s sitting on the edge of his bunk, shirt off, fresh bandages wrapping his torso and arm. His metal hand is still twitching from leftover stress—little sparks crackling at the edges.

He doesn’t look at you at first.

But he doesn’t tell you to leave.

You shut the door and walk over, slow and calm, like approaching a wild thing that might still bite.

“You good?” you ask softly.

“Peachy” he mutters, eyes on the floor.

You eye the bruise on his jaw “Looks like it.”

He grunts, but says nothing more.

You stand there for a few long seconds. Then you exhale, toss your jacket to the side, and without asking, climb onto his lap, straddling him gently.

He stiffens a little “The hell are you—?”

“Shut up.”

He blinks. You settle your weight down, arms looped around his neck, foreheads almost touching.

His breath slows.

“…You’re gonna make me soft” he mutters, voice rough.

“You are soft” you say, brushing his hair back from his face.

He huffs “Right.”

You smile.

Then, quietly, honestly, you speak “My hero.”

His jaw tenses.

“My captain.”

He doesn’t meet your eyes.

“Every day in this world feels like a battle… but you’re the captain who brought me to my victory.”

He looks up at that.

There’s a flicker of pain, disbelief, maybe guilt. He shakes his head.

“We lost.”

You don’t flinch. You bring a hand to his cheek, cupping it firmly.

“We all survived.” You lean in, eyes locked with his “Is it really a loss?”

The words hang between you, heavy and warm.

He stares at you for a long, long moment. Then finally, his voice low, almost gravel, he says “…No.”

You nod.

“Good,” you whisper “Now let me hold you until your stupid brain believes it.”

He lets you.

He even wraps his arms around you, tentative at first, then tight, like maybe you’re the anchor he didn’t know he needed until tonight.

You rest your forehead against his, feeling the tension bleeding out of him inch by inch.

His metal hand settles at your back, warmer than it should be. Steady.

“You always this bossy?” he grumbles, voice low but not annoyed. Almost… fond.

You grin “Only when you’re being dramatic.”

“Dramatic? I got impaled.”

“And still talking,” you say sweetly, brushing your nose against his “Clearly not fatal.”

A quiet sound escapes him, not quite a laugh, but really close. He pulls you closer, jaw pressing to your shoulder, voice muffled against your skin.

“You scare the hell out of me sometimes.”

You smile “Good. Keeps you on your toes.”

You shift slightly, just enough to ghost a kiss across his cheekbone. Then another, soft at the corner of his mouth. Then one more right on his lips, softer and a bit longer.

He exhales, like you’ve stolen all the fire out of him with that one simple touch.

You whisper against his mouth, “I meant what I said.”

“I know.”

“My hero.”

He groans lightly “You’re gonna kill me with that shit.”

“My captain” you say again, this time planting a kiss under his jaw.

“I’ll throw you overboard” he warns half-heartedly, pulling you tighter.

“No you won’t.”

He doesn’t argue.

You rest your head against his chest, listening to the slow thump of his heart, and he buries his fingers in your hair like it’s the only thing grounding him.

“You’re the only thing that makes this worth it” he mumbles after a while.

You grin again, eyes closed “Took you long enough.”

“Shut up.”

You don’t.

You just nuzzle in closer, his warmth surrounding you, his heartbeat steady against yours, and for once, even on a ship held together by bolts and scars and sheer, everything feels unshakably, impossibly whole.

── .✦ Ace:

The waves crash steady against the ship, stars scattered across the sea like someone spilled the sky.

You’re sitting on the edge of the deck, legs swinging over the side, the ocean dark beneath you. Most of the crew’s asleep. Only you and him are still awake.

Ace drops down beside you, barefoot and shirtless, sea breeze ruffling his hair. He smells like smoke and salt and freedom.

"You're gonna fall in one day" he says, nudging your leg with his knee.

You glance over "Then you better be ready to dive in after me. Oh wait, you can't even swim anymore!"

He grins "I'd like to see you try drowning."

You bump your shoulder into his "I did once, remember? Before you even formed this crew... That's how we met."

He goes quiet.

You weren’t joking.

Neither was he, when he dragged you back to the ship half-dead, coughing seawater, chest heaving as he yelled your name like it was the last thing keeping him afloat.

That was the first time he held you like something fragile.

And the first time you knew he’d never let go.

You look out at the sea again "You saved me."

"Hm?"

"Back then. And now. All the time, really."

He leans back on his hands "You act like I’m some hero."

You shake your head "No. You're not a hero."

He laughs "Gee, thanks."

You turn to him, steady “I'm your sailor. You're the captain. You saved me from drifting.”

He blinks. His grin fades, not in a bad way, just... softer. More real.

“I never saved anyone” he says after a second.

“You did, and I'm not talking about that time...” you whisper “You just don't realise it.”

He doesn’t speak, but you feel his hand brush yours, fingers grazing yours like he wants to hold on, but doesn’t know how.

So you do it first.

You intertwine your fingers with his, firm and warm.

“I didn’t follow you ‘cause you saved me that day” you murmur “I followed you ‘cause I finally felt seen.”

He swallows hard.

Then says your name... just your name, but it sounds like a promise.

Not grand. Not dramatic.

Just true.

And that’s all you ever needed.

Years Later

For once, everything’s quiet. No Marines, no missions. Just you, a sleepy harbor, and one very shirtless fire-user leaning against the rail with a half-eaten orange in hand.

You step outside, towel-drying your hair from the bath, and lean beside him.

He grins at you like always, like you’re his favorite sight in the world.

You smirk.

“Hey, Captain.”

Ace groans immediately, tossing the orange peel at your feet.

“You still call me that?” he says, exasperated “It’s been years since I stopped being a captain, Y/N. Drop it already…”

You shrug innocently “But it suits you.”

Before he can roll his eyes harder, you lean in and plant a quick, soft kiss on his lips.

Then whisper, just close enough for him to feel your breath “My boss. My leader. My hero. My captain.”

Ace exhales like you’ve just made his heart do a backflip, but he plays it cool... barely.

“Ugh,” he groans dramatically, gently pushing your face away with one hand “Can’t you just be a cute lover and call me… I don’t know, boyfriend? Honey? My love?”

You blink at him, lips twitching, then smirk.

“Alright, sure. How about... Flamey Hot Dumbass Supreme?”

He stares at you.

“...That’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

You grin wider “What? It’s affectionate.”

Ace covers his face with one hand, groaning “What was I even thinking that day I confessed to you and kissed you...”

You press a kiss to his cheek “That I was the only person who could make your life this fun.”

He huffs but he doesn’t argue.

He just pulls you closer, tucking you under his arm, and lets the sunset burn quietly around you both.

The laughter fades slowly.

Ace still has his arm around your shoulders, thumb brushing slow circles on your upper arm. You rest your head against his bare chest, listening to the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat.

The orange-sweet breeze brushes past. The sun’s dipped lower now, gold turning to pink.

He doesn’t speak for a long while.

And then softly, without teasing “You’ve been sitting next to me all this time…”

You glance up, and there’s something in his eyes that makes your chest squeeze.

“Yeah” you whisper “Where else would I go?”

Ace lets out a breath that almost sounds like disbelief. His fingers move up to touch your cheek, warm and careful.

“I was so busy back then. Fighting. Running. Trying to prove something. I didn’t even see it at first.”

“See what?”

“You” he says “Of course.”

You smile, nudging his nose with yours “Took you long enough.”

His other hand finds your waist, pulling you gently closer until your knees are nearly in his lap. His voice drops “I love you.”

You blink, heart thudding.

He’s said it before, during arguments, in bed, drunk off sake. But this time? This time it’s bare, and slow, and steady.

You wrap your arms around his neck and whisper against his lips:

“I love you too, firebrain.”

You’re both smiling into the kiss when—

“Yo.”

You freeze.

Ace groans out loud, forehead thudding against your shoulder as Marco’s voice cuts you.

You both turn, Ace’s hand still on your thigh, your face flushed, as Marco stands with a completely deadpan expression.

“Am I interrupting?”

Ace doesn’t even lift his head “You think?”

Marco shrugs “Well, you're not in your room, you know? That’s basically an invitation.”

You’re trying not to laugh as Ace flips him off without looking.

“Five minutes, Marco” you plead.

Marco holds up his hands, already walking off “Sure, sure. Just letting you know dinner’s ready... lovebirds.”

Ace groans again, shoving his face into your neck as you laugh harder.

“I swear I’m gonna set that pineapple on fire.”

“Sure you are, Captain.”

“…Don’t start.”

[noshametempo]

aaaaaaand I can officially say that I've finished "Purple Rain" 🥺. it was a story that I enjoyed deeply and that also made me suffer jsjsjs, but thats how life is, isnt it?

Sibiiii, I gotta start with the fact that I have noticed that several stories of yours (like this one) end with a smutty chapter, and I couldnt be happier with it. as a demisexual myself, I find your smut chapters truly fulfiling because they are sooo deep and emotional: a real soul-bonding experience, while at the same time, they add to the plot because its the way your characters communicate and love each other. plus, I think its a whole challenge to write smut, and you do it so amazingly that its just another proof of what a marvelous writer you are💜.

however, the smut chapters are not the only ones that I enjoyed, but the story itself! like the angst was also sooooo chaotic jsjsjs, I got so frustated with some of your characters decisions (like Kook and Yoongi leaving oc, Tae and Jimin for 3 months 🕴️) that at some point I had to think "I need to calm down. Everything's fine. I'm an adult" like the meme JAJAJAJAJA.

I must say that I have had bad experiences with second chances, so I don't know if they are always a good choice, but for this story I think it was perfect because the characters didn't breakup because of a toxic relationship, but because of lack of communication (I mean yeah, at one point that can be toxic but you know what I mean jsjsjs), so it was nice to read a succesful "second chance" story ✨.

in general, I cannot thank you enough for writing these wonderful stories. I discovered you by the Sanguis Duology a few years ago and I haven't stopped reading your works ever since because they are so addictive ejbsutsidl💖. I will keep giving you review of your works for as long as you decide to share them with us hoping that they can give back a percentage of the happiness your works have brought me 🥺.

Hope you are having a good rest and I send you lots of hugs! ✨

“Two months on the road with Jungkook and his friends and you couldn’t be happier about your life. You spend your days laughing, dancing and rolling around the sheets with the boy of your dreams, all whilst visiting beautiful places. 

But your idyllic life soon changes, when Taehyung’s past catches up with him, putting not only him, but your entire gang in danger. Can the group get through his betrayal and if so can you outrun the danger before it is too late?”

Pairing: Jungkook x f.Reader, Yoongi x Jimin 

Genre: Biker Gang!AU, Road Trip!AU, Smut, Romance, Hurt and Comfort

Warnings: This story contains heavy themes such as portrayal of drug addicition & mental health issues. As well as violence and heartbreak & sexually explicit scenes. If you are sensitive to such topics, I advise you read with care.

Wordcount: 209.447

a/n: This story no joke, it means the world to me. Eight months of hard work and all of my blood, sweat and tears are in this story and I really hope you can feel how much it means to me! 💜

~ Part 2 of “The Cocktail Trilogy” ~

#01 - The Start of a Journey

#02 - Billiard & Jealousy

#03 - Apologies

#04 - Junkyards & Bike Rides

#05 - As Close As Possible

#06 - What is Love?

#07 - Friendship & Couple Discounts

#08 - Purple

#09 - 2010

#10 - Alleyways

Seguir leyendo

[dumbseee]

i’ll be watching you, two.

note: here’s the part 2! i hope you guys like it! thanks for the support on part 1, really it makes me so happy that you guys liked it <33 don’t hesitate to comment and reblog, btw you can send me requests if you want me to write anything on the weak hero class characters!

part one.

seongje didn’t get it.

he didn’t know how he got there, but he was currently sitting next to seongmok, watching an episode of the current romance drama he was watching.

"why are they staring at each other like that? it’s been ten minutes, just fucking kiss already." seongje sighed, lighting a cigarette, lifting it to his mouth. seongmok sighed loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose before glaring at seongje.

"for god’s sake shut up!" seongmok’s frustrated tone made seongje chuckle.

the next scene happened after the mc got beaten up by some thugs, and the female love interest ended up tending to his wounds, which created another romantic scene with those stupid love ost in the background. seongje frowned, suddenly interested, he sat up correctly and watched. which actually surprised seongmok.

the scene ended up with a soft kiss between the two characters, and a light went up in seongje’s mind. he suddenly stood up, which made seongmok jump slightly.

"seongmok, i want you to beat me up."

the taller one looked up at seongje, a frown on his face as he paused the tv.

"what are you on? are you on drugs?" he asked, but seongje looked at him with a determined expression, hands in his pocket and his cigarette on the ground, seongmok sighed before standing up. well, he always wanted to knock some sense into seongje.

you were currently getting ready to go to bed, you had to go to the library, early in the morning, so you could study for your exams. school took the majority of your time, so you never had time to hang out or meet new people. your studies were everything to you. and your part-time job also didn’t help in having a social life.

you were so immersed in your thoughts, that you didn’t even hear the knock on your door. you turned around to look at the door and frowned, you didn’t order anything and sure didn’t expect anyone. you walked towards the door and cursed yourself for still forgetting to add a peephole. you opened it slightly and gasped as you saw a man, on the ground, and clearly beaten up.

"oh god!" your hand went to your mouth, as you immediately plopped down. your heart skipped a beat when your eyes met the man’s eyes, and you quickly recognised him. the guy from yesterday, who saved you from hanbin, your coworker. "it’s you…" you mumbled, he chuckled but winced from the pain of having a busted lip. "wait, let’s go inside." you helped him get up, propping his arm on your shoulders, you walked slowly and gently made him sit on your couch.

seongje was ecstatic, his plan was going so well already. seongmok did a great job at beatting his ass and apparently had a blast doing it.

"i’ll get the first aid kit." you told seongje, under the lights of your apartment, you could have a proper look at his injuries, he had a busted lip, that was still bleeding profusely, his cheek seemed to be bleeding as well and he was clutching his ribs, which worried you more.

seongje had to fight the urge to smile, he kept bitting his lip which didn’t help his case. it just made the cut deeper, and caused more blood to ooze from the wound.

you quickly came back with the first aid kit, concern laced in your traits, which made seongje’s heart speed up, you barely knew him and there you were, worried sick for him. oh, how he loved to see you like this.

his eyes never left your face, you truly were the most gorgeous human being he ever seen. your warm eyes, filled with concern for a man who didn’t deserve it, the little crease on your forehead, translating how concentrated you were in helping seongje, which warmed his cold heart. your face was getting dangerously closer to his, and seongje hated how he couldn’t control the speeding of his heartbeat.

"what happened to you?" you finally asked, the question had been burning your tongue since you opened the door.

seongje did help you with hanbin, and he seemed nice, but the way he got your address without asking you, was still bothering you.

you weren’t a fool, seongje had to be involved in some shady business, to get beaten up like that, and also to be so skilled in fighting.

"don’t worry, i’m sorry for bothering you." liar. he actually orchestrated the whole thing just to see you again.

"it’s okay." your voice was like a soft melody to his ears, he knew he could listen to your voice all day, maybe he should put some recording device in your apartment? that way, he’d be able to listen to you, and know every single thing about you.

"what’s your name by the way?" you asked again, and you were curious about him? seongje was truly in heaven right now, getting taken care of by you, and you were asking things about him.

"geum seongje, how about you?" what an actor, seongje was surprised in his acting skills, maybe he should consider a career change.

"l/n y/n." he knew that already, of course he did.

he knew everything about you, from your favourite snack to your least favourite coffee shop. he knew about your first boyfriend, that actually broke your heart back in your first year of high school. seongje knew about that too, found the guy and smashed his legs.

no one should be able to walk freely after hurting you.

no one should be able to breath, at all, after hurting you.

the mere thought of you being hurt or sad, made seongje tense for a second, which you caught and made you stop in your movements.

"does it hurt?" seongje couldn’t stop himself from smiling, you were so cute and sweet to him.

"nah, i’m used to it." he mumbled, eyes still fixated on your face, he didn’t miss the look of uncertainty in your eyes.

"you should stop getting into fights, or whatever your doing." you added, which surprised seongje, out of everything you could’ve done or said, you chose to keep worrying for him.

something no one ever did.

this was only his second real interaction with you, but he was already getting addicted. the way you made him feel was a high he knew he’d chase forever. a normal person would’ve never opened their door to a wounded stranger, but you did anyway. you were different.

"how is work? that bastard keeps bothering you?" you finished cleaning the wounds on his face, you put a medium-sized bandage on his cheek and started to tidy up. "he resigned, i think he got the memo after yesterday." you started to stand up so you could put the first aid kit, back in your bathroom, but seongje grabbed your wrist, which startled you.

"ah… my head hurts, i’m feeling dizzy." he closed his eyes and put his head on your lap. he got comfortable, arms crossed on his chest as he kept his eyes closed.

you froze, you didn’t know how to react to that. that guy was weird, that was a given, but something deep inside of you didn’t want to push him away. why? a random guy is laying on your lap, in your apartment, late at night and you’re not calling the police? that’s crazy.

you always lived a simple, sometime boring life, you came from a middle-class family, who sent you to the city for your studies, when you were off school, you were off to work, and then at home to do your homework and sleep. you lived a rather boring life, yes.

so maybe you enjoyed that little change in your routine? and maybe you enjoyed seongje’s chaotic presence? the guy has to be involved in some shady business with the way he showed up with new and old bruises. but weirdly enough, you didn’t ask about it.

something must be wrong with you, but is that so bad?

"what’s gotten you so lost in thoughts?" seongje’s eyes were still closed, and his voice sounded like he was almost falling asleep.

"nothing." you lied, and seongje immediately caught it, he opened his eyes, the way he looked at you kinda made you feel uncomfortable, he looked at you like you were an open book to him. like he could read straight through you.

"don’t lie to me, darling." you hated how your cheek started to burn from the nickname.

you must be ovulating, you never acted this way before. well, you hardly received any attention from the male audience, not that you complained, you loved your peaceful life. but sometimes, you wished someone would barge into your quiet bubble and add some spice.

well, there comes seongje.

"tell me more about you."

woah. for the first time in his life, geum seongje had nothing to say to that. seongje isn’t someone you can shut up easily, he always has something to say, no matter what the question is, he always as an answer.

ask him about himself and it’s crickets.

"what school do you go to, what are your favourite subjects, do you have any dreams? stuff like that." you saw how taken aback he was by your question, and if you were an open book to him, seongje was definitely one to you as well.

without warning, seongje started laughing, almost hysterically. which surprised you, did you say something funny? he was laughing so hard, he started coughing and tearing up. seongje calmed down after a few seconds, he got comfortable again on your lap and looked up at you.

"you’re funny, i’m not that interesting." he answered, and you were a little disappointed by this. you needed to know more about this man, why was he being so mysterious for?

"i want to know more about you, too." even though he already knew a lot, he needed to listen to all the little stories you had about your life.

"i’m an only child, i was born and raised in jeju island, i miss my parents sometimes." at the memory of your parents, a small smile appeared on your lips. "they sent me here to have a better life, and i’m a high school student." he knew all of that already.

"that’s just the surface of who you are, tell me something no one knows about you." not even him.

you had to think about this one for a few seconds, not because you didn’t know what to answer, you weren’t quite sure if you felt comfortable opening up to a literal stranger.

but that’s the thing with seongje, he doesn’t feel like a stranger, he’s so comfortable around you. like he’s known you forever, maybe the two of you knew each other in a past life?

"i’m lonely." you blurted out.

and that surprised seongje.

you? the most beautiful and shining soul he’s ever seen? how could you feel lonely when the room lit up everywhere you went? seongje did notice how you didn’t seem to have any friends except from your coworkers at work and some classmates who seemed to like you. but seongje also noticed how the eyes of everyone in the room were always on you, it did piss him off, but you were always the center of attention, no matter how quiet you were.

"i can’t explain it very well, but i do feel lonely. like my life has no purpose at all, like i don’t belong anywhere, i-… i don’t know." you didn’t notice how you started playing with seongje’s hair. he sure did noticed and almost went into cardiac arrest. "i’m also very scared of the future, i’m not that good of a student, no matter how hard i study, i can’t get those insane grades like my other classmates." you continue, your eyes were focused ahead, but your mind was far away. "what if i end up disappointing my family? they sacrificed so much for me, what if they end up realising that i’m a failure?"

"hey." you jumped at seongje’s harsh tone. you blushed as you yanked your hand out of his hair, but the coldness of his eyes, who were still focused on you, sent shivers down your spine.

seongje finally sat up, his face was only a few inches from yours and you nearly merged with your couch with how hard you were backing away. your cheeks were burning hot and you hated how naked you felt in front of seongje’s piercing gaze.

"don’t you dare say that about yourself." he said, and you weakly nodded.

seongje’s eyes landed on your lips for a second, and it took him all his self restraint to not slam his lips against yours. not yet. but what’s wrong with a little ki-

seongje’s phone started buzzing in his pocket and he swore he’d kill whoever dared to burst his bubble. seongje closed his eyes before sighing, he took out his phone and answered.

"hm? are you kidding me? send dongha or whatever. fuck you baekjin, you owe me one."

you didn’t know who those people were but seongje looked pissed, he hung up and stuffed his phone in his pocket. he looked at you and forced a smile.

"i gotta go, darling, but we’ll see each other again, sleep well tonight." seongje sent you a flying kiss before taking off.

and just like that, seongje was gone.

you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and finally relaxed on your couch. that was one eventful night if you ever had one. but weirdly enough, you liked whatever happened tonight. you got to see seongje again, talked with him, and he even scolded you for doubting yourself. that made you chuckle, he looked so upset at you for a second.

your phone buzzing against your thigh took you out of your reverie. you pulled it out and noticed a new text from an unknown number.

"lock your door and go to sleep, darling, see you very soon." the text read, and once again it got you wondering how did seongje got your number, when you never gave it to him yourself?

on the other side of the city, seongje played with a baseball bat, twirling it around while whistling. the bat was covered in blood, and three men were scattered around, covered in blood and barely conscious. seongje was feral, he was so pissed at how his night turned out, it started so well and ended like shit.

"you’re the reason why i’m not with my girl, tonight." he spat, kicking one of those guy in the face. "because of you, i’m away from her, fucking bitch!" he kicked, again, and again and didn’t stop until he finally was out of breath.

one thing was for sure, you may not know how to figure your life or where you belong, but you sure belonged to geum seongje, always and forever.

[selfloverrrrrr]

Situationship?

Warnings : smut , heavy smut, unprotected sex, Noncon, Kidnapping, physical and emotional abuse, biting, size difference, Yandere Gojo, footballer Gojo, ex boyfriend sukuna, angst, happy ending, protective, jealous, obsessive, manipulative....

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

Y/N’s POV

The dorm party was too loud, too packed, and too full of drunk people trying to impress each other with their fake laughs and shitty taste in music. I only came because Shoko begged me. Said I needed to 'unclench and live a little'. I regretted it ten minutes in. Then I saw him. Gojo Satoru. Towering. Grinning. Moving through the crowd like he owned it. God, I hated him. That stupid smirk. The way he walked like the world was made for him.

The girls giggling around him like moths to a flame. He was rich, loud, annoyingly hot—and knew it. He caught my eye from across the room and tilted his head like I was some puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. Then he made his way toward me. Great. "Didn’t think this was your scene, princess,” he said, offering me a drink I didn’t take. "I’m not here for you," I replied, already irritated. "But you are here," he grinned, standing too close. "That’s enough."

I stepped back. “Save the charm for someone who wants it.” I said. “You think I do this for them?” he asked, his voice dipping low. “Nah. I’m here for you, Y/N. Always have been.” I laughed. Actually laughed. “That’s sad.” He didn’t flinch. Just leaned down, whispering near my ear, “Bet you’d sound prettier laughing under me.”he whispered. I shoved him back. Hard. His grin only widened. “Touchy. So you do want me.”

“You’re disgusting.” I said. “No, I’m just patient” he said softly, eyes gleaming. I started to walk away. “Come on,” he called after me. “One night. That’s all. You’ll stop pretending after that.” I didn’t turn around. Just flipped him off over my shoulder and vanished into the crowd. But I could still feel his eyes burning into my back. Still hear his voice laced with promise and obsession.

Gojo Satoru wasn’t used to being told no. And that made me his favorite game. I was sitting on the kitchen counter, drink in hand, trying to drown out the noise and avoid every guy who thought staring at my chest was a valid pickup line. That’s when I heard the voice again. "Hope that’s not the only thing you’re putting in your mouth tonight." I didn’t even need to look. Gojo. He leaned on the counter beside me, hands shoved into his pockets, white hair messy like someone had just dragged their fingers through it—which I’m sure someone did.

I stared straight ahead. “Do you ever shut the fuck up?” I spat. “Only if you sit on my face.” he spat back. I choked on my drink, glaring. “Jesus, Gojo!” He smirked. “Relax, angel. I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking.” “I’d rather let a cactus fuck me than you.” I said. “That sounds like a challenge,” he said, licking his bottom lip. “I could be rougher if you want.”

I slid off the counter and tried to leave again, but his hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. "You know," he said, tone dropping into something darker, "it’s cute how hard you pretend. But I see it. That little twitch in your thighs when I talk to you like this.” I yanked my arm free. “I should report you.” “You should fuck me”

I slapped him. The whole kitchen went quiet for a second. Even the music felt like it paused. Gojo touched his cheek, slow. Not smiling this time. His head tilted, that grin wiped clean off his face. The room held its breath. “What?” I asked, defiant, but my voice wasn’t as steady as I wanted it to be. His eyes lifted to mine—icy, distant, off. “You think that was smart?” he said quietly.

“Maybe you’ll learn not to talk to girls like they’re fleshlight material,” I snapped. He stepped forward. One slow step. Then another. “You think I talk to anyone else like this?” he murmured. “You think anyone else gets under my skin enough to make me lose my fucking filter?” His tone wasn’t teasing now. It was sharp. Calculated. I backed up until the counter hit my hip. “Why’s your hair so messy?” I said, trying to redirect. “Someone already dragged you into a room and regretted it?”

It was supposed to be a jab. A petty, bitter comment. But the second it left my mouth, a sharp, unwelcome sting twisted in my chest. God, did someone really…? Gojo's gaze darkened—not with guilt, but something worse. Amusement. “Oh?” He raised a brow. “Is that jealousy I hear, sweetheart?”he smirked. “I asked a question, not that you’d know the difference with your two brain cells.”

He took a step forward, ignoring the insult entirely. “No one dragged me anywhere. Though a few tried,” he said, slow and deliberate. “Wanna guess who I said no to?” I rolled my eyes. “Like I care.” “But you do,” he whispered. “I saw it. The second you asked. Your lips said ‘joke,’ but your eyes screamed ‘who was it?’” My pulse jumped. “Tell me, Y/N… what would you’ve done if I said yes?”

“I would’ve congratulated the girl for surviving your mouth,” I said, folding my arms. He laughed—dry and low. “No, you’d imagine her pressed against the wall. My hand under her skirt. My lips on her neck. You’d picture it, hate it, and then act like it doesn’t bother you.” he whispered. “I said I don’t want you.” I replied. “And yet here we are,” he said, leaning close, breath ghosting my cheek. “You didn’t walk away.”

I rolled my eyes, turned on my heel, and walked away—heels clicking on the floor like punctuation to my refusal. Gojo’s stupid smirk burned behind my eyes, but I didn’t stop. I needed air. Space. Less him. I grabbed a drink from the table, didn’t think twice about who handed it to me. It was just punch. Just enough to take the edge off. But twenty minutes later, the edge wasn’t gone. It was curling.

My skin felt too tight. Breath too shallow. The music pounded like a pulse in my ears. Every brush against my body left fire trailing in its wake. I backed away from the crowd, heart racing, limbs too light. Then I saw him again. Gojo. Leaning against the hallway wall like he'd been waiting all night for the perfect moment to strike. His tie was loose, hair still messy, eyes locked on mine like he knew something was wrong. “You look… flushed,” he said slowly, straightening up. “What happened?”

I blinked. His voice—it sounded deeper. Smoother. Why was he so tall? When did his mouth become something I kept glancing at? “I-I don’t know,” I muttered. “Something’s wrong. That drink—” “Who gave it to you?” he asked, stepping forward instantly. “I—I don’t—” My sentence crumbled. My legs did too. He caught me before I fell, hands strong around my arms. “Fuck,” he muttered, jaw tight. “You're burning up.”

Everything about him felt too much. His hands, his scent, the way his shirt clung to his chest. I hated him. I did. But the sight of him right now… the heat… “I can’t think,” I whispered, fingers clutching his shirt. Gojo didn’t hesitate. Not this time. “Good,” he murmured, brushing his lips over my ear. “Then stop pretending you don’t want me.” He didn’t ask if I needed help. He didn’t ask what he should do.

He just started guiding me toward the back of the house, grip firm, pace slow—and absolutely no regret in his steps. I don't even know when and how we got there. But we were in a bedroom. I don't even know who's bedroom. My mind going dizzy..... Can't even think straight. "You—you look..... So hotttttt" I said and pulled him towards me by his collar. "Oh.... The drug is in my favor I guess" He said. "Mmmm" I replied.

I'm forcing myself on my toes trying to capture his lips. But he's just enjoying that by pulling away and laughing. "You..... Mean...... Kisssssss" I whined with broken words. I was rubbing my thighs from the desperation. The drug is too powerful. "Aww baby... Finally begging?" He asked then pressed his lips on mine. It feels good... Too good. I moaned in the kiss.

"Fuck" He groaned hearing my moan. He pushed me on the bed. Ripped off my dress and my bra. He dragged his tongue from my lips to my boobs. Then captured one nipple in his mouth. I moaned loudly. He's acting like an animal right now. He sucked on it and round his tongue around it. I grabbed on his hair tightly and my head fell on the mattress. My other nipple hardened. He noticed and pinched it with his hand.

He was grinding himself on the mattress for some relief. Then he couldn't control it anymore. He went up and pulled down his pants. Then crawled back over me. His dick is too big. Precum dripping from the head which is red. I was getting wetter by looking at it. He spread my legs apart and ripped off my pantie. "Fuck. I wanted touch this so badly" He whined.

He positioned himself and rubbed it up and down for a few times and then pushed inside. We both moaned. Mine was a scream more than a moan. He started thrusting in and out. Desperately. As if he was waiting for it for a lifetime. "Fuck—fuck—fuck—fuck" He moaned between thrusts. My back arched, eyes rolled back, mouth wide open. My nails are scratching his back. It feels too good. Feels like I'm about to get the satisfaction I was searching for after that drink. My mind is going dizzy. All I can hear is wet slapping sounds.

The sunlight hit me like a slap across the face, and the weight of my eyelids made it hard to stay awake. I groaned, attempting to sit up, but the moment I tried to move, the ache hit me. Everywhere. A sore, dull throb that made my body feel like it had been through a battle I didn’t remember starting. I winced, looking around. The room was unfamiliar, the sheets tangled around my legs.

But then I heard him. Gojo. “Morning, princess,” he said, a little too cheerful, sitting on the edge of the bed with his usual smirk plastered across his face. He leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. “How’s it feel?” “What happened…?” My voice was hoarse, the remnants of confusion and guilt swirling in my chest. “You don’t remember?” He chuckled, leaning back casually, clearly amused by my disoriented state. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You were a real trooper last night.”

I shot him a sharp glare, but the soreness in my body made it hard to do much more than that. My thighs ached, and a dull throb pulsed between my legs. I shifted, trying to ignore the tightness. Gojo grinned, as though reading my thoughts. “You were a real fighter, Y/N. We went for... oh, I’d say more than nine rounds.” “Nine rounds?” My heart skipped a beat, and my face flushed with a mixture of confusion and anger. “What the hell are you talking about?”

His smirk widened as he leaned in closer, eyes locking with mine. “What, you didn’t remember?” He chuckled darkly. “You begged for it, princess. I told you not to drink so much, but you didn’t listen. And now… you’re sore all over. I guess I should apologize, but I’m not really sorry.” He straightened up, throwing a casual glance at the door. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. Besides, after what we did, I don’t think you'll be able to walk right for a while, huh?” His eyes glinted with something darker as he watched me try to sit up.

The entire room seemed to close in on me. I wanted to scream at him, wanted to punch him, but my body felt too weak, too sore to even try. And the worst part? Part of me felt like I couldn’t even fully hate him anymore. "Who said we're going to do it again?" I asked. Gojo chuckled, stretched and stood up, throwing a playful look over his shoulder. “the way you were begging me last night believe me....I know we will” he winked at me.

"Shut up" I glared at him. "What? Don't want me to tell you the way you grabbed my hair and pulled me towards you while I was sucking on your boo–" Before he can finish I threw a pillow at his face. Because I already started to remember what happened last night. He caught the pillow. "You started remembering,huh?" He teased sticking out his tongue and went to the washroom. But beneath all of it, a sick part of me also felt… wanted. I couldn't believe I let it happen. But Gojo always had a way of making everything seem so inevitable. And the thing is... It happen... Really. Again and again. God I hate him!

Weeks passed. He had a match today. He's the captain of one of our college football team. Today's the final. He texted me yesterday.

Gojo:

Tomorrow's the final.

Come.

Wanna see you there.

I know you'll be there baby. 😉

I signed. I won't go. Obviously. I told myself as I was applying the lip gloss in front of the mirror. Other things are already done.

Gojo's pov

I spotted her the moment I jogged onto the field. There she was—she actually came. Y/N sat in the fourth row, arms crossed, pretending like she didn’t care. Like she hadn’t slipped into that tight little black top just for me. Like she hadn’t taken the seat where she knew I’d see her every damn time I looked toward the stands. She looked unimpressed. Distant. Irritated. I smirked. That meant everything was going according to plan.

Because the thing is—when Y/N says she hates me, it usually means she’s about to let me walk her home again. It means she’ll look at me like I’m the last man on Earth one second and roll her eyes the next. Situationship, huh? That’s cute. But tonight, she didn’t just hate me. She hated that he was here. Sukuna.

Her ex. My rival. The one who still looked at her like she was something he could win back if he just scored one more goal, got one more touch, made one more move. Too bad. This wasn’t his game. It was mine. The whistle blew. And I ran. We clashed hard—shoulder to shoulder, elbow to ribs, cleats grinding turf. Sukuna was fast, brutal, and cocky. I was worse. Because I wasn’t just playing to win. I was playing to make her feel it.

The tension. The possession. Me. Then, it happened. Thirty-five minutes in. We broke through their midfield, the ball met my feet like it knew where it belonged, and I saw my shot. One swift strike. Goal. The crowd exploded. But I didn’t run to my team. I didn’t even turn to the crowd. I turned to her. I jogged straight to the sideline, lifted my jersey, and underneath it? Her name.

Written on my abs. In permanent black ink. Right across my lower stomach, just above my waistband. I pointed at it. Grinned. Stuck my tongue out and made the motion like I was wiping sweat off it—slowly. The crowd screamed. My team went wild. But all I saw was her. Y/N. She stared at me. Eyes wide. Lips parted. And then… she smiled. Gotcha.

And that smile? That was mine. Not Sukuna’s. Not the guy next to her whispering shit into her ear. Not anyone else's. Just mine. Sukuna saw it too. Next play, one of his team member fouled me hard. Elbowed straight into my ribs. “You really think she’s yours?” he hissed under his breath as the ref blew the whistle. “She smiled once, and now you're pissing yourself with pride?”

I leaned into his ear. “I didn't say she was mine, Sukuna,” I whispered. “I said she’s not yours anymore.” Then I glanced at Y/N again. She was still watching. Still fuming. Still biting her lip like she didn’t want to be turned on. This game? It wasn’t about football anymore. It was about her. And tonight, I’d make damn sure she remembered which one of us still made her knees weak without even touching her.

Second half. Sukuna’s face twisted. He snarled something at his team. I didn’t care. I was high off her eyes on me. Second half kicked off. The heat doubled. Sukuna came at me harder. Taunted. “How many girls you gonna brand like that, huh?” I laughed. “Just one. Too bad you fumbled her.” He tackled me a second later—hard and illegal. Ref blew the whistle, but I didn’t flinch. I stood and leaned into Sukuna’s ear.

“She came for me, not you.” He shoved me, and I let him. yellow card. The rest of the game? Pure chaos. We fought for every inch. Grass tore. Sweat poured. At one point, he tried to slam his shoulder into my back, but I pivoted and sent him flying into the dirt. The crowd lost their minds. Last five minutes. Still 1-0. He got desperate. Went for a final attack. It was now or never.

He sprinted. Shot. I intercepted it with a sliding tackle, stole the ball, and sprinted down the field solo. Fast. Free. Electric. The goalie came forward. Too early. I chipped it. It soared. Goal. Second one. Game over. I roared. My team piled on me. But all I was looking for—Y/N. And there she was. Standing now. Clapping slowly. Fighting that smirk. Yeah. That’s mine.

I stared her dead in the eyes as the announcer screamed my name over the stadium speakers. Gojo Satoru. Man of the Match. And just like that, I knew exactly what was going to happen next. Because no matter how many times she says she hates me... She came to watch me win. And tonight? She’s coming home with the winner.

Y/N’s POV

The crowd was still screaming his name when I turned away. I needed a second. Just one damn breath without Gojo’s voice echoing in my head, without his stupid smirk burned into my memory, or the image of my name written across his body flashing behind my eyes. Situationship. Yeah. That’s what I called it. What I kept calling it. But that look on his face when he pointed to my name?

That felt like everything but casual. I was halfway down the corridor near the locker rooms when someone grabbed my wrist. I turned sharply. Sukuna. Of course. He looked too calm. His jersey was dirty, lip slightly bleeding, but he still had that predator’s grin. “You came,” he said, like he had a right to be amused. I tried pulling away. “Let go.” “You used to scream my name like that too, you know,” he muttered, stepping closer. “But now you cheer for the guy who uses you like a cum rag after practice?”

I clenched my jaw. “You don’t know anything.” He laughed low. “Don’t I?” he leaned in, voice cruel. “You think he’s serious about you? Come on, Y/N. He’s the star. He’s got half the campus on their knees for him. You think you're special just ‘cause he fucked you raw and scribbled your name on his abs for attention?” I froze. “You’re not his girl,” he continued. “You’re his toy. Situationships don’t turn into anything. You’ll be nothing more than a warm body in his bed ‘til he finds the next girl to mark.” “Shut up,” I whispered.

“He’ll leave you sore, used up, and stupidly in love while he moves on like it was nothing. That’s what Gojo does.” His smirk widened. “And deep down, you know I’m right.” I yanked my arm back. I didn’t say anything. Didn’t give him the satisfaction. I just turned and walked—faster, burning, breath shallow—until I hit the locker room hallway. Gojo’s team was spilling out—sweaty, laughing, shouting like they won the damn world cup. Some of them whistled when they saw me.

“Yo, Satoru,” one called. “Your girl’s here!” His girl. I hated how that made my heart skip. Then I saw him—Gojo. Shirt off. Skin still glistening from the game. Hair damp and messier than ever. He looked like a fucking sin. And when his eyes landed on me? He smirked like he owned me. Like I was the trophy he’d earned. “Look who decided to come find me,” he said, cocky as hell. “Told you I’d win.”

I swallowed the knot in my throat. He opened his arms. “Come here.” And without meaning to… I did. But now? Everything felt different. Because Sukuna’s words were still whispering in the back of my mind. You’ll be nothing more than a warm body. But Gojo’s hand was already sliding around my waist.

And god—I didn’t shove him away. Not when the locker room was loud and hot and alive with post-game adrenaline. Not when his fingers splayed just a little too low on my hip, grazing skin like he knew what he was doing. He leaned down, voice low, breath against my ear. “You looked good out there, cheering for me.” I didn’t look at him. “Don’t flatter yourself.” He chuckled. “You were smiling.”

“I smile at puppies too. Doesn’t mean I want to sleep with them.” That made him smirk. “You didn’t look like you were thinking about puppies when I lifted my jersey,” he said. “You looked like you wanted to climb me in front of the whole stadium.” I scoffed. “In your dreams.” “Oh, I dream. Trust me.” His voice dipped lower. “Usually about the sounds you make when I’ve got my head between your thighs.”

“Gojo,” I snapped quietly, glancing around. Some of his teammates were still watching, some grinning, like they already knew too much. But Gojo? He didn’t give a shit. He leaned closer, lips barely brushing my cheek. “Come to the afterparty.” “I'm not invited.” I said. “You are the invitation.” he replied. I narrowed my eyes. “You really think you can pull this shit and I’ll just follow you around like some trophy girl?”

“You came to the game,” he said, smug. “You always come.” I hated that he wasn’t wrong. I hated how my body leaned into him instinctively. I hated that his scent—sweat, soap, and victory—was starting to feel like something addictive. “I haven’t decided if I’m staying,” I lied, heart thudding. “I have other places to be.” “Then go,” he said smoothly. “But you won’t.” He let go of my waist like he didn’t need to hold me to keep me close.

And damn it—he didn’t. I stayed. Not because I wanted to. But because Sukuna’s voice was still in the back of my head—and I needed to prove, to myself, that I wasn’t just some warm body. I wanted Gojo to prove me wrong. But he wouldn’t....right? RIGHT? The house was packed. Bodies everywhere. Music thumping like a second heartbeat. Laughter. Booze. Lust hanging heavy in the air.

And Gojo—of course—was in the middle of it all. Crowned in sweat-slick white hair, surrounded by his team, girls orbiting like he was the damn sun. I stood by the kitchen, drink in hand, and hated that I searched for him the second I walked in. I hated that I was even here. But Sukuna’s words wouldn’t shut up in my head.

“Situationships don’t last, Y/N. He’ll fuck you and leave you. He’s probably already fucking others.”

“He’s not serious about you. He just likes the thrill.”

“You're just the current obsession. He’ll get bored.”

I took another drink. And another. And when Gojo finally came over, cocky grin in place, I was already a breath away from snapping. “There’s my girl,” he said, wrapping an arm around my shoulder like he hadn’t just ignored me half the night. I pulled away. “Don’t.” He blinked. “Don’t what?” “Don’t touch me like you mean it.” I replied. Something in his face shifted. The smirk didn’t leave, but it faltered.

“Okay… what’s going on?” he asked with a confused chuckle. I looked up at him. “Is this it, Satoru? Is this what we are? I come to your games, you get to show me off, we fuck behind closed doors and pretend there’s nothing more?” His mouth opened. No sound came out. “You know what Sukuna said to me?” I continued, laughing bitterly. “He said you’d get bored. That you’ll never choose me. That I’m just a phase. A toy. Something fun before you move on.”

“Y/N—” he tried to say something. “And maybe he’s right. You’re charming, Gojo. You know exactly what to say. You touch me like you own me but you never say I’m yours. You fuck me like I’m the only girl in the world but you never tell me why you want me.” Silence. Music thumped on. Somewhere, someone popped a bottle and screamed. “I don’t want to do this anymore,” I whispered, throat tight. “This thing. You. Me. The almosts. I’m done.”

And before he could answer, I walked away. Left the house. Left him standing there. And for once, I hoped he knew what it felt like to be unwanted.

Gojo’s POV

The party didn’t matter anymore. Neither did the noise, or the crowd, or the two girls who’d tried to flirt with me right after Y/N left. All I could hear was her voice.

“You touch me like you own me but you never say I’m yours.”

Fuck. For the first time, she walked away. No playful retreat. No teasing glance over her shoulder. Just cold, clean heartbreak. I downed a shot. Threw the glass on the floor. This wasn’t over. Not even close. If she wanted proof? I was going to give her everything.

I went to his house. I didn’t knock. Didn’t text. Didn’t care. I kicked his door open like a storm, breathing fire and dragging my rage in with me. Sukuna was on his couch, a drink in one hand and a smirk already stretching across his face. “Well well,” he said slowly, sipping his whiskey, “if it isn’t Mr. MVP.” I didn’t speak. My fists did first. He stood up just in time to dodge the full blow, but my fist clipped his jaw hard enough to snap his neck sideways.

“You motherfucker,” I growled, advancing. “Ohhh,” he laughed darkly, licking the blood off his lip, “that angry, huh? Guess you heard what I told her.” I slammed him against the wall. “You poisoned her mind. You planted every fucking doubt—” he cuts off my sentence. “And she believed it.” His voice was calm. Cruel. “Funny, isn’t it? How easy it was? How deep down she knew it was true?” I lost it.

Fists flew. Bodies crashed into furniture. Glass shattered. His living room turned into a goddamn war zone. And even when he got a lucky punch in—hard enough to make something crack in my hand—I didn’t stop. Not until he pinned me for a second, panting, sweat and blood slick between us. “She’s mine,” Sukuna hissed. “She never fucking was,” I snapped back, even as pain screamed from my broken finger. “She’s not a prize, you twisted freak.”

“Oh, but I’m not done. You think this is some great love story? She’s already halfway back to me. She’s not gonna wait for your dumb emotional revelation. She doesn’t even trust you, Gojo. She doesn’t believe in you.” I punched him again. Harder. My finger screamed in pain, but I didn’t care. “I’ll fix it,” I said low, pressing my forearm to his throat. “I’ll burn the world to prove her wrong. I’ll rip your lies out of her brain with my bare hands.”

Sukuna chuckled under the pressure. “But will she ever choose you?” I stared down at him. My knuckles bleeding. My hand swelling. My breath ragged. “She already did,” I whispered. “You’re just too fucking pathetic to accept it.” And then I let go. Left him gasping, laughing, bloodied on the floor of his own damn apartment. As I walked out, I made a silent vow. She was worth bleeding for. And I wasn’t done.

Y/n's pov

I didn’t want to cry, but the lump in my throat refused to go away. My room was dark, the only light a dim lamp glowing like a dying heartbeat. I stared at the wall. I hadn’t even changed out of my clothes from the game. Still in his oversized hoodie—Gojo’s hoodie. I hated that it still smelled like him. Like everything I was trying to forget.

Then came the knock. Loud. Desperate. Then his voice. “Y/N. Open the door.” I didn’t move. “Please.” Another knock. This one quieter. Like he was losing fight. “I know you’re in there. I know I don’t deserve it. But I’m begging you.” I stood slowly. Opened the door just a crack. Gojo looked wrecked. Split lip. Bruised cheekbone. Knuckles raw. His hair even messier than usual, falling into his eyes like it gave up trying to stay out of trouble.

He saw my expression. The hoodie. “I went to Sukuna,” he said. “What?” My breath hitched. “I fought him. Almost beat him unconscious.” “Are you insane—?” I spoke. “Maybe,” he said. “But I had to. He told me what he said to you. What he planted in your head. And the worst part? Some of it was true.” I stayed silent. “I let you think this thing between us was just physical. I made it seem like you were just another girl I could mess with and move on from. But it was never like that. I’ve been scared. Of how much you meant. Of ruining it. But I ruined it anyway.”

“Satoru…” “No, listen to me.” He stepped closer, voice trembling just a little. “You’re not just someone I want to sleep with. You’re the only person who makes me nervous before a game. The only one I look for in the crowd. I kissed your name into the air when I scored tonight.” I blinked. “That celebration—” “It was for you,” he said softly. “Because even when you say you hate me… you still show up.” I swallowed hard, heat rushing to my face.

“You said it’s just a situationship,” he whispered. “But it never was for me. I just didn’t have the guts to admit I wanted more. And now I might’ve lost you for good.” He stood there. Vulnerable. Unarmored. And for once, Satoru Gojo wasn’t cocky. He wasn’t smirking. He looked scared. I opened the door fully. Just enough to let the pain breathe between us. “I don’t trust you yet,” I said quietly. “But I didn’t want to stop loving you. I just wanted to stop hurting.”

Gojo stepped in like he was entering a church. Quiet. Reverent. He stood in the middle of my room, eyes shifting like he didn’t know where he was allowed to look. Like he thought I might kick him out at any second. “Sit down,” I said softly. He did. No questions asked. I pulled out the first aid kit from my drawer and knelt in front of him. My fingers hovered over the dark bruise blooming across his cheek. He hissed when I dabbed antiseptic to the split near his lip.

“Idiot,” I muttered. His smirk was faint. “Missed being called that.” “Shut up,” I whispered, though there was no venom in my voice. I cleaned the cuts, bandaged the raw skin on his knuckles—he’d hit Sukuna hard—and I saw it then. His right hand. The swelling. The way his index finger bent just slightly wrong. “Your finger—” I spoke. “It’s fine.” he replied. “Satoru.” I warned “I said it’s fine.” he repeated.

I looked at him. Really looked. “You broke it, didn’t you?” He averted his eyes. “Get up. We’re going to the hospital.” “No. I’m not leaving this room. Not until I fix us.” he said. “You need a doctor—”I spoke but he cuts off my sentence. “I need you.” His voice cracked. “Just let me have this moment. Let me have you again. Even if you hate me tomorrow.” I stared at him. Heart aching. Eyes full. “I don’t hate you,” I whispered. He looked up.

“I wanted to,” I admitted, voice trembling. “God, I tried. But even when I said I wouldn’t come to your match, I went. Even when I said I was done, I still waited for you. Because I knew—” I paused, swallowing the wave in my throat. “—I knew you’d come.” He reached for my hand. Held it like he’d break if I let go. “Y/N,” he breathed. “I love you. I love you so much it’s disgusting. And I know I don’t deserve you after everything. But I swear, I’ll prove it. Every damn day.”

I closed the distance between us and kissed his bruised lips gently. Not lustful. Not desperate. Just ours. And I whispered, “Then start by going to the hospital. Idiot.” He groaned, leaning his forehead to mine. “Can I not just—stay here a bit more? My pride’s already shattered.” “Too bad,” I smirked. “Your girlfriend’s a tyrant.” His eyes widened. “Girlfriend?” he said, half a tease, half in awe. “Unless you want me to say something else,” I whispered. He kissed me again.

But just as I stood to pull him up—A wave of dizziness washed over me. “Y/N?” Gojo stood instantly. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “I’m fine—just—” I sat back on the bed, clutching my head. “Okay, nope. You’re going too.” he said. “No,” I laughed softly. “I’m not sick.” He crouched again. “Then what is it?” I stared at him, heartbeat in my throat. It was too soon. Too raw. But he deserved the truth now. All of it.

“I’m pregnant.” I said. The silence hit like thunder. His mouth opened. Closed. “Y/N…” “I found out last week. Was going to tell you after the game. But then everything fell apart and I thought… maybe it was a sign I should raise it alone.” His eyes were wide. Shining. “No. Don’t ever think that.” He cupped my face, hands trembling. “You’re not alone. We’re not alone.” I didn’t realize I was crying until he kissed my tears away.

Then he pulled me into his chest and whispered against my hair, “I’m going to marry you someday, Y/N. I’ll be better. For you. For our baby.” And I believed him. Because for once, he wasn’t the reckless college football star or the smug boy with a wicked tongue. He was just Satoru. Mine. And I was his.

This is my first time writing angst.... Please don't judge 😭

Give me your requests guys....

I love when you give me your requests 💗

[blueberrypancakesworld]

John Walker - In a Relationship

John Walker x fem!reader

warning : kissing, hurt/comfort, fluff, mention of war, weapons, no use of Y/n

info : Finally! I saw the movie and omg I loved it, get ready for a lot of fics about sexy traumatized characters. Plus my fav John Walker that taco shield owner and now enjoy reading :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John Walker got a second chance after losing those closest to him and being dropped by the system that had wanted to make him great. But just because his wife was no longer in his life and he seemingly had nothing left, the opportunity with the Thunderbolts was all the greater...and on top of that, you, as his girlfriend, gave him hope for something wonderful.

°Walker may be superhumanly strong, but his heart is in the right place, especially when it comes to you. He would never drag you into one of his missions, never expose you to the danger and the past he had lived through. “You are more important than any mission, you won't get hurt like I did, I promise,” he told you whenever you offered to come with him, and he meant it.

°He was so grateful and wanted to show you his gratitude as often as he could for being there for him even in his darkest times. That you didn't see him as a 'dime store' Captain America, but as the soldier and savior of people he always wanted to be. “Never, John, the costume yes, but you no, you are my dutiful, handsome U.S. agent,” she said, John replied with a smile of flattery and truth.

°Those were words of love and respect, and they were rewarded every time with a kiss on the cheek while his rough, large hand rested on your hip to pull you closer to him.

°During the time you got to know each other, it was difficult for him to 'learn' what it meant to no longer be needed. His fear was understandable and his anger sometimes uncontrollable, but no matter how long and how often he disappeared to train to clear his mind, you waited for him, helped him with his training, and above all, it was he who said “Thank you...thank you for all this, sweetheart” every time. During training, he was the one who kissed you and couldn't have been happier when you kissed him back.

°In general, you quickly noticed that after John turned his back on the government, he could be very protective. Whether it was a call to check on you or a message after every mission when he came back to you, “Just one more mission, sweetheart, I'll be back soon. I love you,” he recorded the voice message before putting on his helmet to go on another “official” mission and somehow find that meaning he had almost achieved.

°You were waiting for him, he had someone waiting for him again, someone who believed in him, and that alone was worth continuing for.

°One of the most beautiful sights for the agent was seeing you cleaning your weapons. As cliché and stupid as it might be, he loved your knowledge, he knew you weren't helpless and could defend yourself, but this sight of beauty and lethality made his heart beat a little faster. “My dear weapon nymph,” he commented as he leaned against the doorframe. Your embarrassed smile spoke volumes, and John, as always, either cleaned his weapons or simply kissed you on the head and let you continue.

°When it came to leisure activities as a couple, it always depended on the missions and the time they had in between. Before Thunderbolts, it was rather difficult to find time for each other, but now, in the new team, there was suddenly more time and more understanding.

°Even Bob found tips in a dating book for his friend to give them some new ideas. “Trust me, just let your soft side out.” John heard his girlfriend say as he looked at the unpainted ceramic bowl. He had never been an artistic person, but seeing how beautifully she painted the bowl, he wanted to give it his best shot.

°In contrast to the colorful bowls that were displayed as souvenirs on the shelf, John insisted on playing football with you and the others as a team, which quickly became not only fun but also a battle for “Title and honor,” as Alexei put it, with John scoring every point like a god.

°In the end, he even lifted you up and carried you across the field. “Only the football queen gets that from her king,” he whispered before gently spinning you around and giving you another rewarding kiss. It was something none of you ever got enough of, because a kiss was simple but just as symbolic.

°Intimate yet brief, quick yet full of emotion, it was all the more important to John to always show you that he still loved you after everything.

°After all, he was still human. He may have been a super soldier, but he was only human. That's why his mind wasn't invulnerable and his nightmares about Afghanistan and what the terrorists had done sometimes kept him awake. “A former Captain America, a super soldier, and an agent, and yet I have this weakness,” he murmured, full of guilt and remorse, as he sat next to her in bed and hated himself.

°Your touch calmed him, allowing him to forget the war and the past. He focused on the present, on what he had, and especially when he had you right there with him.

°As you discovered, it was the little gestures and the things you did without thinking that John appreciated. Your hand on his, a kiss on his temple, a hug, or just leaning on him in bed when his mind was tormenting him. John knew he wasn't perfect, but he had learned enough in the last few months to become better, and with your love and his hope and effort, he would manage to improve himself and, above all, be the best boyfriend he could be to you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@egotisticaleverything , @brisselfshipping , @hoebrowsalad , @littlebean2905 , @lilbit32 , @neska334 , @lillycore , @crimsonkingart

[chocobje]

HEY. slides in. ummmmmm hii

i'm a big sprout seedly fan and i like dandy's world a lot in general. and you are one of my literal FAVORITE dw artists because WHAT THE HELL!!!!!! SO MANY GOOD THINGS COME OUT OF YOUR BRAIN!!!!!!!! and your freakin uhhhhhh whassit called. The posts about the mains' last thoughts before they go twisted. they are driving me INSANEEEEEEEEE and i have SO MANY FEELINGS AND SO MANY THOUGHTS. ALL BECAUSE OF YOU. thank you for drawing Sprout Seedly struggling to breathe on the ground and thank you especially for the line about how he can feel his scarf. that one stuck with me.

anyways! i just really really need you to know that those posts, in conjunction with your posts about the handlers eventually returning, have ignited something in me. I have been losing my god damn mind. your Sprout posts in particular made me want to write something about him and Cosmo when Sam returns, Sam finding Sprout protecting Cosmo even as a twisted. simply because i like to think about Sprout Going Through It. i thought up an outline, expecting the finished product of that little thing to be no more than 5k words.

I have still not finished that little snippet. because it spiralled out of my hands when i started telling one of my friends about it, and he and i kept bouncing some ideas off of each other. and now, I am, in partial collaboration with him, constructing an entire dandy's world au because i saw your posts and thought your concepts were incredibly fun to think about. I fear I am never going to be able to recover

the au was SUPPOSED to just be about the handlers returning, after the initial expansion from just Sprout to the rest of the mains. now it has an entire prequel of setup upon setup upon setup in the works that might end up longer and more extensive than the handlers returning half of it

so unmmmm. Yeah. i just want you to know that i appreciate your posts a lot and i really really like what you do. you have inspired and motivated me greatly. hope you don't mind this coming out of absolutely nowhere.

OH MY GOD?? THANK YOU 😭

A lotta things come outta my brain.. Especially anything when it comes to exploring characters and their thoughts and feelings cause ARGHHSNDK I'm surprised nobody has done like, a pre-twisting last thoughts idea yet like the one did.

I'M SO HAPPY MY POSTS GOT TO INSPIRE YOU SO MUCH!! If you ever post that fic I'd DEFINITELY LOVE TO READ IT PLS LET ME KNOW!! :D ❤️

I love had this thought of Handlers returning to Gardenview for a LONG time I was just hoping someone else woulda done it LMAO

This made my morning ty once again 🥹

[kiruamon]

Demon Lord AU - Of caretaking and rings

More sketches for the demon lord au. And some more lore? Also you are already married to them in the last sketches.

Moon: *doing a girly voice* "Oh no! Love of my life, help me! The evil wizard came to bring me back home where I have to marry him!" Y/N: *makes growling noises and talks with a gruff voice* "Do not fret my little morning blossom! I'll chase this fool away!" Sun: *has a hard time holding himself together* //Don't laugh. Don't laugh, Sun. You have to stay in character.//

Y/N: "They have grown fond of you two so fast. Makes me think, you and Sun must have a talent as caregivers. And I've to say, you have been a great help lately. So... thanks for lending me your services." Moon: "Too much praise, but... thanks. I like this work. It's far better then fighting." Y/N: *chuckles* "True, true. It's is much nicer then that." Y/N: *pausing for a moment before gazing into the distance* "I hope things will stay peaceful during the next weeks. I would like to have more time for the little ones rather then fighting off knights and the like." Moon: "Yes. ... I hope so too."

Y/N: "Please accept these rings. So that a part of me will always be at the side of my beautiful morning and evening star."

Sun: "S-Shunshine. They're breathtaking. But why do they... glow? Did you enchant them?" Moon: *had been reading about demon customs the past months* "This shine... Starlight, tell me that you didn't... " Y/N: *gleefully looking at them* "Ah, I see, you noticed it Moonie. It's fine. Really. I just put a little bit of my soul into it. For someone as powerful as myself it's not thaaaat big of a deal." *tail swishes proudly behind them* Sun: "H-huh? Moon? What are you two talking about? W-what does it mean there is a part of your soul in it, Sunshine?" Moon: *stuck between being worried and deeply touched* "Demons can put pieces of their souls into other objects. It increases their power, but... but if these rings... if they would be destroyed then Starlight... " *he pauses, almost inable to say the rest* Moon: "It will weaken them a lot and there would be no way to recover the power that had been lost. It's so risky that it's rarely ever done. In older days demon spouses that were forced into marriages by their families exchanged them as wedding gifts with each other to have some form of reassurance to not be betrayed so easily by the other... " Sun: "T-then we can't accept them! You have to take them back." Y/N: *pretends to pout and turns their head away, but their tail twitches in mischief* "If you do not want them, you can just toss the rings away. But I will not take them back. Aside from that, it's not like I can redo the spell to get these parts of my soul back anyway. Soooo, I would be much happier to know that they are in the capable and loving hands of my spouses." *looks again at Sun and Moon in a much softer and tender way* Y/N: "Please, do not think I made this decision on a whim. Even if I might admit the voice of my heart spoke very loudly in this case. But... I have faith in you two. And like I said I did wanted a part of me to be with you wherever you two might be. So please, do not make me take them back, my darling lights." Sun: *is struggling for words* "Y... you shouldn't have- " Sun: "It's too risky. And... and it's not- " Sun: "... You're not playing fair, Sunshine. ... Ngh, to get us with such trickery... " *sniffles while holding his hand with the ring closer to his chest* "... I'll keep it safe for the rest of my life... just like I vowed to protect you so many moons ago." Moon: *wipes away a stray tear from his eye, but laughs softly* "It seems we don't have much of a choice Starlight as to accept your gift. Be sure we'll take good care of it and feel honored of your grant trust in us." Y/N: *smiles fondly while walking closer to them* "Oh my sweet twin stars. Of course you do. You always are given a choice. But I do apologize for worrying you and... being a bit unfair. It was not my intention to bring you sorrow or to make this gift seem like a burden. But we all have just one life. And I would have regretted it much more to not have shown you my deepest trust and love." Sun: "F-foolish demon." Moon: "Our mischivious, little star." *both step forward to take you in their arms and so you too lay softly one arm around each of them, your face comfortly nestled against them as you hear them whisper words of love into your ears*

A short while after they too gifted you with some rings. One embedded with a blue sapphire the other one with a yellow topaz. Sun and Moon even knew about the custom of your species to attach the rings to your tail which you found delightful and endearing when they asked if they were allowed to slip the rings onto it. Unlike you they weren't able to put a part of their soul into them. But this isn't important to you. You still can feel the love and affection gleaming in them whenever you look at these precious gifts.

[bisexualiteaa]

🎬 Film Fest! 🎬

Film 1:

Mrs. Riot

Kirishima X P!star F!Reader (MDNI!!)

CW: AFAB, no use of y/n, reader is a 🟠⚫️ actress, fake marriage, cursing, l0ve making, fïngering, vanilla seggs, unpr0tected seggs, 0ral F! Recieving, fluffy, p0rn w/o plot (literally) cream 🥧, terms of endearment, reader and Kiri have some history, slight age difference (Kiri is in his early 20s reader in their late 20s) possible spelling/grammar errors, briefly proofread

AN: had the idea come to me late last night as I was finishing this of doing a series of MHA Characters (all aged up!!) x reader with different types of videos for each character. I thought it might be fun now that I’m getting back into writing, I have two more for the series already saved in my drafts. 👀 if yall are interested at all, or have any specific characters you want to see, my ask box is open! Feel free to drop requests anytime! It gives me motivation to write and is always greatly appreciated! 🫶🫶 hope yall enjoy the first part to this series, and stay tuned to other parts coming soon!!

There was something about being on set, especially compared to any other job that you’ve ever worked, that was just so invigorating. Something about it made you feel so alive in ways nothing else has managed to do so before. Maybe it was the flashing lights, or the taboo nature of it all, and that’s not even mentioning the thrill of who comes and goes between the sheets of the bed that you ultimately find yourself sprawled out upon. Was it the best job to work at? Probably not, there were the occasional awkward encounters out in public from people recognizing you, but did it make you great money? Oh fuck yeah it did. You were well taken care of here, your health and well being always a top priority, which was a rare commodity in the porn industry. You had no complaints. Other than the occasional set partner taking things a step too far at times, but hey, that’s what safe words and security was for.

It’s no secret that even the pros occasionally engage in such debaucherous acts, especially when it comes to being featured in the porn industry. It’s another way to get their name out there, feed their egos or even to simply just blow off some steam after a rough day or week on the job. You’ve seen many of your fair share of heroes come and go from the studio, some were more surprising than others. Today’s addition was most surprising, because in walked none other than the hardened hero Red Riot himself.

You had just finished getting ready, walking out of your dressing room in a silk robe, your hair done up nicely and makeup done to see him standing with and talking to one of the producers. Said producer also happened to be your boss and owner of this business, Denki Kaminari. “Well now, isn’t this a pleasant surprise!” you said with a soft grin, walking over to them as a blush rose to Eijiro’s cheeks at the sight of you. You saw a smile curl to Denki’s lips as he saw you walk up. “Lookin’ good mama! Oh, hey! Meet your set partner for today. You’ll be in good hands for sure, him and I go waaayyy back!” Denki said, throwing an arm around his scarlet headed friend as he introduced you two. You knew him a little more personally than any of the other heroes you would normally film with, having a bit of history with the hero yourself so you didn’t really need any introducing, but the look on Eijiro’s face as he recognized you made this all the more amusing, but even more exciting. “Oh shit” Eijiro responded, his face burning a dark red that could rival that of his own uniform, making you giggle as he connected the dots. “Hi Eiji” you said flirtatiously, giving him a cute, flirty wave as Denki looked between you two. “Oh! You two know each other already?” He asked, seeming clueless to the history you two had. “You didn’t tell me I’d be filming with her!” He said to Denki, making him raise a brow in question at his friend. “Who else would you be filming with?” Denki asked defensively, removing his arm from him to get ready to stand in front of you should he need to keep you safe. It was a protective move he’d always had with you, wanting to ensure his staff, especially his big stars, were safe on set. As much as he wanted to assume the best, previous history of some not so great moves from even well liked pros left him with his guard up just to be safe. His protective reflex, paired with Eijiro’s reaction making you chuckle. You placed a gentle hand on your boss’s shoulder. “It’s alright Denks, he’s just a little surprised to see me is all” you said reassuringly, making Eijiro place a hand to the back of his neck in fluster, rubbing it as he shot you an apologetic but sweet smile. “Been a while, kinda feel a little embarrassed now knowing you’ll be the one to see me naked” he said, making you chuckle softly. “It’s alright, don’t be, besides, I think you underestimate how much I look forward to this. Might even be just as much as you do” you said with a grin, making him blush even more. “Oh geez, really?” He asked, his face only growing more red by the second as you looked him over. “There some history between you two that I should know about?” Denki asked with a raised brow and a slight grin, his arms crossed against his chest as he waited for the juicy details. “Actually yeah” Eijiro answered. “Guess he wasn’t expecting to film with the hot secretary that he used to flirt back and forth with before making it big” you teased, making Denki turn to him with a look of shock and surprise as he put the pieces together before a wicked grin stretched to his lips. “Wait! The hot secretary at Fat Gum’s you used to always talk about during our third year? Oh shit dude, that was her?? Oh man, isn’t this a dream come true for you then!” Denki said with an almost sinister giggle, making the poor hardened hero so incredibly flustered.

Back before you were in the adult film industry working for Denki, you actually worked for Fat Gum and had been working for him since you’d finished college, working up from a simple front desk position to becoming his trusted secretary. You handled the every day runnings of the office when he was away, as well as sorting through paperwork and sending him important details for when he would be out on patrol. When Eijiro was studying under Fat Gum, it was pretty common for him to come visit you at your desk and flirt with you before the day had even started. Sometimes it was a simple conversation, other times he would bring you things like food and treats that they would come across while they were out on patrol, especially if he happened to spot any of your favorites. You’d even gone on the occasional coffee date together, finding the time between your days off and his busy schedule. But then one day he came into the office and you weren’t there anymore. Your desk once occupied by all your cute little decorations and the piles of sticky notes attached to your computer were gone and someone new soon occupied your desk. For a good few years he hadn’t been able to find you since then, never having worked up the courage to ask for your number when he had the chance. He kicked himself every day for it too, because then he could have asked you out properly now that you two weren’t coworkers. That was until he came across some of Kaminari’s works one day. Even heroes need a way to relax after a long day and blow off some steam, so why not support his friend while he was at it? It was as he was browsing through the videos that he finally found you again. He had no idea you were the star actress at Kaminari’s studio now. And man were you good at it.

“Ya know, now that I think about it, it explains a lot actually. Like why you wanted the script to be-“ “shut it, dude!” Eijiro cut him off, making Denki laugh at his friend’s embarrassment as he teased him. “See you on set, handsome” you said flirtatiously, getting up on your tip toes to press a soft kiss to his cheek, watching as he stood there completely speechless before sauntering off to your dressing room to wait until he was ready. “Dude she’s so into you still” Denki said with a grin, shamelessly watching you as you walked off to finish getting ready for set time. “You think so?” Eijiro asked, sounding hopeful for that to be the truth, looking at you with such a dreamy look in his gaze. “I’ve never seen her flirt so hard with someone off set before. You gotta get her number or something after this!” Denki replied, trying his best to hype up his friend.

Your heart raced with excitement as you got the scene all situated, lighting the small candles that laid all around the room with a match as you were donned in a black and red robe. It was hand picked, perfectly to match the iconic colors of his hero uniform, sitting slightly opened in order to reveal your cleavage and allow the material of the gorgeous set of lingerie hiding underneath to peak out just enough to allow the imagination to run wild. Rose petals littered the ground around the bed and decorated the surface of the plush duvet. Next to the bed lay corresponding Mr. and Mrs. wine glasses on the respective nightstands, signaling that you two had just gotten married and this was to be your romantic honeymoon getaway. You quickly put out the match as you heard a knock come to the door, telling you that it was show time. “Action!” You heard Kaminari whisper yell as you watched Kirishima walk in. “Baby? I’m back!” He called out, pulling his tie loose from the tux he was still wearing from the reception, making him smile brightly as you came into his view. “Hi honey! You have fun?” You asked as he closed the door behind him. “Definitely! Never a dull moment with a wild bunch like them” he responded, making you chuckle because you knew it was true, you’d heard countless tales of all the trouble him and his friends would get up to. “But I’m happy to be back with you, to enjoy our night together” he responded genuinely, making you give a pleased hum in reply at his sweet tone. “The boys didn’t wear you out too much did they?” You asked with a slight pout and almost an innocent look in your eyes as you smiled up at him like a cute little wife would. Like you were his cute little wife. He gave a chuckle as he drew closer to you, his hands coming to rest on your hips as your hands rested on his chest. “They tried but…told ‘em that’s your job tonight. Don’t think I didn’t get all those naughty little texts you sent me earlier. Trynna get me all excited and worked up for our honeymoon night?” He asked with a shark toothed grin, his eyes moving up and down your body, drinking in the sight of you. It left your heart fluttering and a tingling feeling in your lower stomach, seeing the way he looked at you. You have a mischievous giggle in response as he leaned in to kiss you so softly, so sweetly as if he was almost afraid that he might break you if he wasn’t careful. It was so unlike how you would normally be treated. His touches were light, his words soft, his looks genuine. It made you feel worshipped rather than used, loved rather than violated. You should have known someone as sweet as him, as gentlemanly and kind would treat you accordingly, yet it still came as such a surprise. “Maybe” you replied with a playful grin, making him chuckle. “Should be careful what you wish for baby, you might just get it” he whispered into it playfully, his tone dipping low and gravely as his hands wandered to your ass, kneading your soft skin in his much larger, calloused hands. You moaned softly into the kiss as he used this as leverage to pull you against him, sending a pleasant tingle through you straight to your core at the feel of him against you. He took that moment to capture your tongue in a sinful dance with his own, groaning as his hips pressed against your soft, much smaller body. You truly had no idea the things you did to him.

You felt his hands travel down your sides, caressing your skin softly and gently as he kissed you. “You looked so good out there baby, so beautiful in your dress. You always manage to leave me speechless, you know that?” he said softly, his admission intimate and his tone quiet as if it was only meant for your ears. You smiled, humming delightedly as one of his hands traveled down your arm, his lips leaving a trail of hot kisses against your neck whilst he grabbed your hand in his. He loved how small you were compared to him, how his hand dwarfed yours when he held it against his own. His thumb slid along the wedding band that sat around your ring finger, a gentle caress that again, was so foreign to you, but more than welcomed. “I’m the luckiest man in the world to have you” he said intertwining his fingers with yours making you blush at the sweetness, the tenderness of his tone and his kisses. Your eyes fluttered shut with a pleased sigh as his teeth nipped at a sensitive spot on your neck, leaving him to lavish it with attention as your free arm looped around him. He felt your nails dig into his back, a moan leaving you as he worked a hickey onto your skin. It’s such a far cry from how you were used to being treated. So different from being used and thrown around like some kind of sex doll, instead he was treating you like you really had just gotten married. His touch was intimate, his words dripping with saccharine sweetness. You’ve done your fair share of acting in the past to make the scene seem genuine but this? This wasn’t acting, the blush coming to your cheeks was real, the soft gasps, the sweet smiles they were all genuine. This was real, genuine chemistry. “How’s it feel to be Mrs. Riot, baby?” He asked, his hands wandering your frame once more as a cute smirk spread to his lips. “Feels like the happiest day of my life” you replied, making him smile as he looked down at you, so lovestruck you could have almost assumed that he was actually falling in love with you. Perhaps he was, perhaps he had been this whole time. Maybe you were too, and you just didn’t realize it.

It wasn’t much longer before you took your husband by the hand, bringing him to the bedroom to show him the romantic scene you’d set up for the both of you. He gave a chuckle. “See you’ve been busy while I was out” he remarked, looking around the room at all the candles and rose pedals. “You like it?” You asked, sliding your robe off and down your shoulders as he was distracted, waiting for him to bring his attention back to you. When he did, the look on his face was absolutely unmatched. He stood there looking at you with awe, astounded to find you standing here before him, in his hero trademark colors no less. “I love it” he said in a dreamy tone, his words less about the decor and more about you, his eyes scanning you over in the teddy bodysuit that adorned your frame, accentuating all of your beautiful curves. You couldn’t help but giggle softly at his reaction. “Me? Or the decor?” You asked in a cheeky tone, making him give a cute laugh in response. “Both, but I gotta say, you’re the real eye catcher here” he responded, coming up to you where he could get a closer and better look at you, and he did just that. “Damn babe, you look good” he said, his hands resting on your hips again as he kissed you sweetly. “You get this just for me?” He asked, making you smile up at him. “Who else would I get it for, silly?” You responded so naturally, as if the answer was obvious, making him smile back at you with the sweetest, proudest grin you think you’ve ever seen. Oh yeah, he was down bad.

Before you knew it, you were on your back on the bed, hair cascading around you as you looked up at him. His hands splayed on either side of your head as he hovered over you, kissing you like he needed the very air you breathe. You felt as his hand moved from beside your head to trail your body, his fingers dragging down the lace barrier that kept his touch from reaching your sensitive skin. “Gotta say baby, red looks good on you” he said, making you laugh. “Thank you, it’s my favorite color” you said salaciously, making him hum with intrigue. “Is it now? Wonder why that is” he replied teasingly, knowing the answer to that but he wanted to hear you say it. “Don’t know, probably because it reminds me a lot of my husband” you said, putting emphasis on the new word that you get to regard him as. “Oooh, say it again” he said in a low growl, making you gasp softly as his hand trailed down and cupped your soaked cunt. “My husband” you said lasciviously, making him damn near moan at the words. “Yeah, that’s right” he said, making you giggle. “Reminds me of his spiky red hair, how good he looks in his hero uniform. It’s even in the name. Ever heard of him?” You asked, making him hum as he pretended to contemplate who you were talking about. “Can’t say I have baby, why don’t you tell me all about him” he said, rubbing your throbbing clit with his calloused fingers, making you moan. “He’s big, he’s strong, he’s very handsome. He’s definitely the manliest guy I’ve ever met” you said, making him grin and hum at your praises, watching you worry your bottom lip between your teeth and pant as he applied the perfect amount of pressure and speed to your clit. “Oh yeah? Sounds like a pretty cool guy” he said, making you chuckle. “The coolest. Did I mention he knows all the right ways to please a girl?” You added, making him chuckle. “Oh really? Think I could compete?” He asked, watching him push the small strip of fabric hiding your cunt to the side before his fingers dipped down to your entrance, slowly working his thick fingers inside of you. “Mmm, I dunno. May just have to prove if you can” you teased, making him chuckle. “Oh I think I definitely can” he said, working you open with his fingers as he searched for that bundle of nerves deep inside of you. “Fuck…” you sighed, one of your hands coming to grip his arm, nails digging into the muscle as he curled his fingers inside of you, his bicep flexing with each movement. Your jaw fell open and head dropped back as he found that sweet spot, eyes fluttering shut as a moan bubbles from your throat. “Can he find it that fast?” He asked, making you chuckle. “Fuck yeah he can, knows all the right ways to please his wife” you said, making him groan as you called yourself his wife. “Can’t get enough of that” he admitted, making you moan as his thumb circled your clit again, you could hear the sounds of your slick coating his fingers as they slipped in and out of you so effortlessly. “Yeah? That’s the other thing. Love how in love my husband is with me, he takes such good care of me” you praised, making him blush as he leaned down to pull you into a messy, heated kiss at those words. They were music to his ears, words he’d been dying to hear from you for years now, fisting his dick to the thought of coming home to you, plowing into you while you’d be screaming his name. Denki was right, this couldn’t be any more of a dream come true for him. “Fuck baby, you drive me wild you know that?” he breathed into it, his breath shaky with need as he worked you with his fingers, wanting to make sure you cum first before he even gets inside of you. Ever the gentleman he is. “Love how sensitive you are for me, how wet you get at the smallest of touches. Gonna treat you so good baby” he said, and you wondered if he was even in character anymore as he spoke to you. You dropped the act the moment his thumb smoothed over your fake wedding ring, treating you like his wife from the moment he stepped on camera.

“Need you so bad Eiji, please…” you moaned, looking up at him with a deliciously desperate look in your half lidded eyes that made his cock throb. “Cum for me first baby, you know I always gotta get you ready for this cock” he said, making you moan at the thought of him finally being inside of you, of how good the stretch would be, how far inside you he would sit. “Not rushing it tonight, tonight’s all about taking it slow. Wanna savor you baby, even if it means we’ll be up all night” he said, his lips trailing down your body before his head was seated between your thighs. You could feel his breath against your dripping core, his fingers still seated deep inside of you as his tongue found your clit. Your hands quickly flew down to his scarlet locks, fingers tangling in his hair as your back arched up from the bed. “Oh! Eiji…fuck-!” You moaned, hearing him moan into you as his tongue teased your clit, dancing so deliciously against it. You couldn’t help but squirm in his hold, the vibrations of his moans only amplifying the feeling. “Taste so good baby” he said, his hands slipping under you to massage the soft, plump flesh of your ass as he devoured you like a man starved. Your hips bucked against his face in time with the flicking and fluttering of his tongue, searching for that deliciously addicting friction. “Right there! Fuck, just like that baby, ‘m so close…” you panted, moaning sweetly as he looked up at you, marveling at the sight of you. You looked so perfect like this, naked, chest heaving with each labored breath you took as he pleased you, your eyes rolling back when he swipe against your clit with just the perfect amount of pressure. The way you moaned his name, he swore it dripped from your lips like honey. “Eiji! Gonna cum, oh fuck! Baby!” You moaned, warning him as you felt the coil in your core winding tighter and tighter with each pass of his tongue against you. “Let go baby, cum on my tongue. I got you” he assured, watching your face contort with pleasure as it washed over you, your hands pushing him down against you and thighs accidentally squeezing his head as you fell over the edge of bliss. You moaned out loudly as it hit you, the pleasure rushing through you like a strong electrical current, leaving you twitching and spasming slightly as your body started to relax. You heard him moan into you so sinfully, the sound snapping you out of your haze so that you could release him from your tight grip. “Fuuucckk…” you let out, doing your best to catch your breath as you looked at him with a lazy smile on your face. “Did so good for me baby, still got it in you to continue right?” He asked, checking in on you as he climbed back up over you, making you chuckle. “Course I do, c’mere” you said, your arms looping around him, fingers coming to comb through his bright red locks as he kissed you. You paid no mind to the taste of yourself on his tongue, feeling his hand move along your body once more. “You ready?” He asked looking at you, a flush coating both of your cheeks as you looked up at him like two teens about to share their first time together. “Yes, need you so bad Eiji, please..” you begged, making him chuckle softly as he gripped his leaking cock by the base. “I gotchu baby” he replied sweetly, lining himself up to your entrance.

You knew he was big, but fuck the stretch even after his fingers, tongue and with how wet you were surprised you. He made you feel so full, and not just in the sexual way. The caring look in his eyes that he shot you as he eased himself inside, wanting to make sure he wasn’t hurting you, to the way his hand came up and clasped yours, fingers interlocking as he bottomed out. It all made your heart feel so warm and full. “Oh fuck baby…squeezin’ me so tight already. Feel so amazing” he praised, starting a slow and gentle rhythm to let you get used to his size. You couldn’t help the moans that left you even if you tried, his tip kissing your cervix and rubbing that gummy spot inside, it left you dizzy with pleasure. “Feels like you were made for me” he added, looking down at you and admiring the way your body moves in tandem with his thrusts. “Eiji..” you panted while looking up at him with that half lidded expression. He could hardly tear his eyes away from you, whether they were meeting your gaze, or fixating on where your bodies met, or the way your tits moved with each thrust, he simply couldn’t get enough of you. “Feel you so deep” you moaned as his heavy cock dragged against your walls, nudging spots deep inside of you that had you seeing stars already. “Yeah? Feel good baby?” He asked, making you shake your head yes. “Yes! Fuck…so good!” You moaned, the words going straight to his dick as you said them. “I love you” he let out, making your heart flutter at the words, a bright red tinting his cheeks. He leaned down, burying his face into your neck as he moaned. “Love you so much” he said, littering your neck with kisses as you clung to him, your nails digging into his back, legs wrapped around his hips. “Love you too baby” you replied, feeling him pick up in pace a little bit, effectively losing himself in you and the fantasy.

You could feel the coil in your stomach beginning to wind tighter and tighter with each thrust, feeling him nudge that spot inside of you repeatedly, all it would take is one little push to send you over the edge. “‘m so close Eiji” you warned, making him groan as his one hand gripped your hip tight, the other still intertwined with your own. “Me too baby” he admitted, picking his head up enough to look at you, and my goodness was he a sight to behold. His face flushed, brows furrowed, eyes half lidded, jaw slack as a moan bubbled from his throat. “Cum with me baby” you said, watching him drop his head to look where your bodies were joined together, watching his thick cock disappear inside of you with each thrust. “Wanna feel it” you coaxed, your legs wrapping around him tighter, making him let out a breathy chuckle. “Inside? You sure?” He asked, making you bite your lip as you shook your head. “Wanna feel it. Want you to fill me up Eiji” you said, and if he wasn’t close to cumming before, he certainly was now as those words left your lips. “Cum for me baby” he said, his fingers leaving your hip to circle your clit, making your back arch from the mattress as he gave you that last push towards your release. “Yes! Oh fuck, Eiji!” You moaned, clinging to him tightly as your orgasm washed over you, a loud moan escaping you as your tight cunt clenched around him, sending him over the edge with you. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, cumming!” He let out, grabbing your hip as he spilled inside of you, his dick pulsing with each rope that coated your walls. “Fuucckk…” he let out, thrusting shallowly inside of you to help you both ride out your highs as you both fought to catch your breath. “Damn babe, really took it out of me” he joked with a breathy chuckle, making you hum with a soft grin. “That’s my job, right?” You asked with a grin, making him laugh before he leaned down to capture lips in a soft, intimate but sweet kiss. “I love you” he said, so genuinely, so sweetly as he looked down at you tenderly. “I love you too” you replied with a sweet smile, mirroring his gaze.

“And SCENE!”

[tokkiyuna-rkgk]

Smart! It would save a lot of time. Though, to be careful when you try to do different poses. From my understanding, you will only need to draw the shoulders different and then can just move the body to the direction needed. Be sure to not leave it flat.

I remember that phase. Try as many tools as you want. For me I stick to the fountain pen (for line art), technical pen (for coloring), paint brush (for coloring again), and Blending (for blending lol). I know you will soon find the brushes you are most comfortable, just takes some trial and errors to find them. Use as many as possible. Sometimes you find yourself using a tool that you never expected to.

I saw! I need to read them. Hadn't had a chance to catch up with the chapters. Though, I did try to read one of them but got lost. Though, I'm sure I only felt like that since I tried to read it before the day of my intermediate accounting exam. Also, don't need to apologize. Moments like those are one of the best since like you said, it helps with characterization. Makes the readers relate more to them, y'know? Bro, Scout Goseumdochi and the tree was my favorite moment in the later parts of the story. I actually had wanted to draw it, but didn't at the end. Glad to hear the original author is going to make art of it!

I found the sketch, but it's not finished nor is it funny. It's just Dalnim looking at the ants as they crawl into a bucket :\. Tbf, I was drawing during a lecture which is not a smart idea :((

I have a feeling you are fond of Siwoo lol. He got a fangirl lmao (jk). Oh and yeah, Twitter does that. There's actually something on the right corner that anyone can click/press on and will take the post to Grok. There you can do whatever. I had accidentally pressed on it with one of my posts, so idk what happened but I did exit it immediately once I realize what it was.

I heard of Great General Mighty Wing and saw it on Sah Beetle's account too since they made some fan art. I had not read the series at all. I need to eventually get around to reading it. At this rate, the creators of Squirrel and Hedgehog are gonna need to go to you for worldbuilding haha. Nice to see you being able to incorporate both series into one (even if its in planning stages).

15 projects?! That is so much! I hope you get around to completing each and every single one of them.

I saw that drawing. It's really good! Combining the photograph with the drawing was wonderfully done. Poor Bamsaegi though. Glad to hear a bit of update on those hedgehog quills.

I'm all done with finals! For the last two days, I have been extra sleepy. I think I'm all good now. But damn was I tired.

As for your tags:

I hope you finish all that you need to do including getting the files onto the Internet Archives (if y'all can).

That is why I never write canon characters. I absolutely will somehow overlook something or make them too OOC. That is why I stick to my own charatcers.

I'm not familiar with Bucky Bug nor Gus the Goose. I looked them up and they seem to be Disney characters? Idk if I am just not into Disney or what, but I never knew these characters existed.

Don't say that. You're still in the process of learning to get used to drawing. I am not sure how long you have been drawing, but I have 7 years of doing digital art (only 4 using an actual tablet) and 11 years drawing altogether. And even after all those years, I never had my art progress as much as yours. You'll get to a level of drawing that will be impressive soon enough. Heck, you'd probably be better than me soon. You are already doing better backgrounds than me.

With the manhwa, I am assuming you are talking about Great General Mighty Wing? Like I said before, I need to get around to reading it. I think I found it partially? But, I'll hold off on reading it until I am certain I found the full version.

Hello :))

Here's a small sketch of Siwoo (Haven't drawn this man in ages)

A quick explanation of the sketch:

The Raliaen Mountain Crescent Base doesn't have a formal financial department or anything related to it. Aera has tried to ask for a financial department to be established, but the Central government told her that they can't spare any for her as her base doesn't need one. Aera knows that's a lie since she and Hyeonsik are stuck maintaining the budgets and resource allocation of the base. Eventually, Aera is unable to keep up due to higher number of suspected enemy spies being reported. Hyeonsik hates to do anything related to finance beause he hates money (long story). So, he just gives them to Siwoo who had studied a bit of accounting before. Siwoo is genuinely still confused on why he is given the documents. Hyeonsik does actually give Siwoo a bonus for doing them, so Siwoo can't complain.

One of many reasons Siwoo needs coffee.

[tohruies]

ha! 💌 ! except that i’m doing uno reverse and sending one to you! (and especially since you’ve already written it once for me and i even printed it out!!!)

dear coco, so i know how you always want to bring even the tiniest smile to people’s faces! you are the sunshine that peeks from behind the clouds during the cloudy days ⛅️ but i’m smacking you affectionately because oftentimes in your selfship dynamics you mention that your dear beloveds soothe your heart after you give it away to everyone around on an open palm — and you should listen to that inner voice! ✨ treat yourself first, be a little selfish, make sure to feel comfortable before you comfort others ❤️‍🩹 let me tell you again — i am shaking you and telling you this because a happy and healthy coco guarantees even more happy people around her! 🥺 i love your prose, love your poetry that you sneak so elegantly in between sentences and paragraphs — it’s been a while since i’ve read anything from you and i understand that there are things that you must focus on first, but no matter the passing time, yours will always be one of the styles that inspired me the most in my writing journey on here! 🥹 your presence here has been influencing my life in the most positive way ever since becoming mooties with you! you always put so much thought into remembering everyone’s personalities, lives, preferences and stories! 🌸 but i wanted to make sure that you know how it also feels to be on the receiving side of love (though i know i’m not the only one adoring you so much and certainly there are so many others who would stand right beside you if you only needed a shoulder to lean on) 🩷

༼ﾉ ´༎ຶ ﹏ ༎ຶ༽ ﾉ *: ·ﾟ💌 when manu wears the biggest ever size of meanie pants ever... /silly

(i will acknowledge & respond to your own 💌 to me in the tags, if that's okay!! 🥺 oh my goodness 🥺🥺)

3 days later and i think i have finally collected myself enough to respond to this WAH... I AM SO SORRY TO KEEP YOU WAITING MANU! 🥺 i am uno reversing your uno reverse >:3 hehe, i remember that i wrote you one of these last year, in april!!!! it's always been a difficult month for me, so it made me really happy + meant the whole world to be able to write something for you and have you receive it with all the love in your heart 🥺 so much so that you even printed it out (i cried tears of joy last year when you told me that AODKJFAJ i am so sorry 🙈). i hope you don't mind that i give last year's message a sibling LOL, with what i am about to say to you now!!!! (⁄ ⁄>⁄ω⁄<⁄ ⁄) 

dearest manu mousie, manu the great, my manumimii!

where do i even begin with youuuu ;w; /pos!!!!! maybe i can start with how much i love (and also fear /lh, because you are truly so... omniscient lol!) how perceptive you are... the way you make people feel seen (exhibit a, the contents of this ask asdfghjkl) and look so deep into their hearts... i think you are incredibly excellent at analysing people and charaters /POS and i feel like this is very evident in your fics and character studies!!!!! it is due in large part to your introspection which is another thing i love about you :D and why i think i find a great deal of comfort in you 🥺 because i am always especially drawn to these kinds of people!! people who you don't need to wear a mask around because they will be able to see through you anyway... it's very soothing in a sense to know that you are like this 🥺💗 and it only inspires me to be more perceptive too!! i hope i can be as caring and kind as manu is some day, heheh (๑•̀ᴗ•́๑)  💗

which brings me to my next point—i love all the ways in which you are quietly kind and looking out for your friends—again, as evidenced by this ask, wah... BUT ALSO!!! in how you do other things for them! 🥺 little blurbs in their mailbox (i revisit that xiangli one you wrote me not so long ago) or even drawings!!! perhaps i don't ship with haitham anymore, but the doodle you gifted me last year has always been a widget on my phone :3 and it will continue to be!!! that was the very first time anyone had ever drawn me something just out of the goodness of their heart, let alone gifted me anything of the sort!!!! 🥺🥺 so it is something i hold really really close. it makes me smile SO BIG!! and kick my feet all excitedly to see you do that for your other friends here too HEHE—when i look at femi's pfp... vana's pinned... i am reminded of just how big and bursting with love that your heart is 🥺💗

i love how much you have grown on here over the past year. ⭐️ in terms of your writing—which has been such a pleasure to witness over time how you've grown into a style that is so distinctly manu!! 🥺🥺 because like! 🥺 i remember so distinctly a certain post you made last year about wanting to improve your writing and your vocabulary and finding your 'own writing voice' 🥺 look at you now!!! with your lush descriptions and rich prose and dynamic characterisation, IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY!!!!! AND PROUD!!! and i hope you too, are proud of yourself friend 🥹💖 even aside from your writing, i'm so glad that you have grown more comfortable here in sharing more personal posts about yourself hehe AND OF COURSE YOUR SELFSHIPS!!!!!!!!!! :3 i am also very glad about how you have lots and lots of friends on here now!!! that all love and cherish and uplift and reassure you in the way you deserve to be 🥺

i'm just really happy you are here with us, babie. i hope you won't take it the wrong way when i say this, but i really do believe that you are so much stronger, kinder, and easy to love than you think yourself to be! 🥺🥺 i hope that you can continue to work on being less hard on yourself, and i hope that all your friends here can help with that in any way you'll let us!! i hope you will continue to share more of your heart with us here and let us cradle it and soothe it when you need it. i hope your studies will treat you as kindly as they can, and that you will succeed in them :3 i hope you know that all you need to do is try your best!! you have a beautiful brain and a tender, loving heart—so i am sure in due time that all the good karma will be returned to you 🥺💗 making you a steaming cup of pink chai with a dollop of condensed milk in it, and gently rubbing your hands in mine to warm them up 🥰 we love you so much manu, not just for all that you do for us, but for just simply existing as you are, and letting us bask in the warm light you radiate 💖💖💖

[mackthecheesy]

rip to the person in my dream last night who i was in a time loop trying to save </3 woke up before i ever could

[zanzanne]

amy is teaching me their "telepathically send your food to people" power. to make myself feel better i'll believe this silly little landmine is actually psychic

[painsandconfusion]

Writers, here’s your reminder that you should be doing warm-ups!

Athletes need to warm up. Musicians need to warm up. Artists need to warm up. Heck, I even have to play a few matches in video games before I get into a groove every day.

Warm-ups help you get into the right headspace, give you more control of your actions and word choice, get you comfortable in your physical setting (eg: with your keyboard, notebook, tablet, or whatever you're writing with), and spark creativity.

Even if you don’t think you have spoons to write, sit down and do a couple warm-ups. If you still don’t want to, that’s alright. But. I think you’ll be surprised how often they help break that ice.

5-15 minutes is all you need. I personally set a timer for ten minutes each time and do not stop writing until the time is up. Your warm-up can be anything at all so long as it gets you writing and starts nudging those creative juices.

Here's some common warm-ups:

Journaling. Just jot down some notes about your day. Feel free to really lean into something that you noticed. We're going for description and details -- try to avoid settling into a spiral or focusing on something negative that will upset your creativity.

Short story prompts. Type that into Pinterest and pick the most ridiculous, cliche thing you can. Write a little scene, story summary, or even a rant about why you do or don't like the prompt. Just write.

Vocab challenge. If you like a bit more critical thinking to get you in the zone, have a random vocabulary word generator spit out five or so words. Check their meanings and jot down a little story or thought that includes all five. You get more familiar with beautiful and descriptive language, and it gives you a much narrowed prompt (which is lovely if you're like me and suffer each time there's an open-ended task assigned).

Character moments. Try putting your character into a generic setting and write down almost meticulously what their thought process would be. Follow them realizing they've just stepped in mud or dreading the start of the day. Pick a mundane thing and describe them working through it. This will not only get your writing going, but it will wake up the character's voice in your head.

Ongoing storytelling. Did you know that Whinnie the Poo was A.A. Milne's warm up story? He would jot down a quick little story with those very basic characters and did so every day. Whatever came to mind. He kept writing little tidbits on the same characters and eventually it turned into a series. Having that ongoing plot with isolated scenes and simple characters can help you feel more motivated to sit down and write.

Get-to-know-you-questions. Google a list of basic first-date questions (there are a million out there) and answer one yourself. Go into specifics. Where do you most want to travel and why? Let yourself ramble until the question is fully answered.

Writer's block blues. This is a favorite of mine. If you're truly stuck, write about being stuck. Eg: 'I'm supposed to write for ten minutse, but that feels so stupid and impossible. No one is goign to read this anyway. I have no ideas and the page is so overwhelming when its blank. I used to be able to write on and on and nothing could stop me. it was like breathing. but now I have nothign and do nothing and I can't even do a stupid prompt-' Even the rambling and ranting got me writing. It made things easier. It made writing this post easier. Also -- notice the typos? Yeah, don't fix those. You're in writing mode, not editing mode when you're doing this. If you edit while you write, you're forcing yourself to stay in your executive and calculating headspace rather than falling fully into creativity and dream. Ignore the mistakes. That's for future you to handle.

I've officially rambled far too much, but I hope that helps even a little bit. Live well and write often, my friends. Best of luck to you <3

[enhaflixer]

campus crush!sunghoon x f!reader

stats class. keep ur glasses on when u fuck me. statistical analysis with ur tongue. thats abt it. sunghoon word porn ngl ENHA HARD HOURS (kinda) 18+ MDNI

-

You're late. Again.

The digital clock on your phone reads 3:10 PM as you sprint across campus, your backpack bouncing against your spine with each step. Statistics seminar started ten minutes ago, and Professor Clarke has definitely noticed your absence by now. Not that it's unusual—you've made it a habit to burst through those doors at exactly ten minutes past, a whirlwind of apologies and bright smiles.

"Sorry, sorry!" you announce as you push open the computer lab door, slightly out of breath.

Twenty pairs of eyes swivel toward you, but Professor Clarke doesn't even look up from his laptop at the front of the room.

"How kind of you to join us," he says dryly. "We were just assigning semester project partners."

You flash him your most charming smile as you slide into an empty seat. "Perfect timing then."

A few people laugh. You've mastered the art of diffusing tension with humor, of making your tardiness seem like a quirky character trait rather than a genuine inability to manage time. It's gotten you this far in university.

"As I was saying," Professor Clarke continues, "this statistical analysis project will count for forty percent of your grade. You and your assigned partner will select a dataset, develop a hypothesis, and use STATA to analyze your findings." He gestures to the complex statistical software displayed on the projector screen—the same software that has been giving you nightmares since week one.

You glance around the room, hoping you'll be paired with Olivia or Zara—friends who wouldn't mind carrying the team if necessary. But when Professor Clarke reads off, "Sunghoon Park and..." followed by your name, your heart does something unexpected.

It skips.

You've noticed him before—it's hard not to. He always sits in the same spot three rows from the front, always arrives fifteen minutes early, always has his notebook open at the exact moment class begins.

What you haven't fully appreciated until now, as you turn to locate him in the room, is just how devastatingly handsome he is. His dark eyes find yours immediately behind stylish wire-rimmed glasses that give him an irresistible intellectual appeal. One corner of his perfectly shaped mouth lifts in the smallest acknowledgment, and a strand of black hair falls across his forehead when he nods at you. The combination of his reserved demeanor and model-worthy looks creates an effect that makes your stomach flip. He's the definition of a hot nerd—the kind that makes you temporarily forget about statistical analysis altogether and wonder what he'd look like with those glasses slightly askew, his usually perfect hair disheveled.

After partnering announcements finish, Professor Clarke instructs everyone to move next to their assigned partners to discuss project ideas.

You gather your things and make your way to Sunghoon's station, dropping into the chair beside him with dramatic flair.

"Fair warning," you say brightly, "I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing with this software. Like, none. Zero. Statistical analysis to me is deciding which café has the shortest queue."

You expect a sigh or a look of disappointment—it's what most serious students do when they realize they've been paired with you. Instead, Sunghoon's expression softens.

"It's okay," he says quietly, his voice carrying just a hint of an accent. "I'm... not an expert either."

"But you always look so focused during class," you say, gesturing to his immaculate notes.

He shrugs, the movement slight and controlled. "I write everything down. Doesn't mean I understand it all."

When he opens the STATA program and navigates through a few screens with apparent ease, you lean closer.

"Okay, so you're being modest. You definitely know more than I do."

"Barely," he admits, and you catch the faintest hint of a smile—not the polite one from before, but something genuine that makes you want to see it again. "I just know how to make it look like I know what I'm doing."

"That's an important life skill," you laugh, pulling your chair closer to see his screen better. "So what kind of data are we analyzing? Please say something fun like ice cream consumption versus happiness levels."

Sunghoon doesn't laugh, but his eyes crinkle slightly at the corners. "Actually," he says, "we can choose almost anything that interests us."

You bump his shoulder lightly with yours. "See? We're going to be great partners. I bring the wild ideas, you bring the common sense."

"Is that what they call it?" he asks, and there's a hint of playfulness in his voice that catches you off guard.

"What would you call it?" you challenge.

He considers for a moment, adjusting his glasses with a single finger pushed against the bridge. The gesture shouldn't be as attractive as it is. "Survival instinct."

You laugh, genuinely surprised. "So I'm dangerous?"

"No," he says, turning slightly to face you better. "Statistical software is dangerous. You're..." he pauses, seeming to search for the right word, "unpredictable."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It was meant as one." The quiet confidence in his voice sends a small thrill through you.

Professor Clarke clears his throat at the front of the room. "I expect project proposals by the end of next week. Choose your dataset carefully—it will determine the scope of your entire project."

You glance at the clock. Only fifteen minutes of class remain.

"So, partner," you say, lowering your voice as Professor Clarke continues, "when should we meet to figure this out? I promise I'll try not to be ten minutes late."

Sunghoon's mouth quirks up at one corner. "Would you actually show up if I said 8 AM at the library?"

"Now you're just testing me," you whisper back.

"Coffee shop after class on Thursday?" he suggests instead, his voice equally quiet. "The one behind the science building?"

"Beans & Books? You've got good taste." You nod approvingly. "I practically live there between classes."

"I know," he says, then immediately looks as if he wishes he could take it back.

"You know?" You raise an eyebrow, intrigued and slightly pleased.

A faint color appears high on his cheekbones. "I've seen you there. You always order something different and then type furiously on your laptop."

The fact that he's noticed you before, observed your habits even, gives you a little flutter of satisfaction. "And what do you order, Sunghoon Park? Let me guess—plain black coffee, no sugar."

His eyebrows lift slightly. "Close. Earl Grey tea."

"Of course," you nod sagely. "Sophisticated."

When class ends, you gather your things slowly, suddenly reluctant to leave. Sunghoon stands, slinging his messenger bag across his chest in one smooth motion.

"Thursday, then," he says, as if confirming an important business meeting.

"It's a date," you reply with deliberate casualness, watching his reaction.

His expression remains mostly neutral, but you don't miss the quick blink, the slight pause before he nods. "For statistics," he clarifies, but the slight upturn of his lips betrays him.

"For statistics," you agree solemnly, though you're already wondering what other subjects you might explore together.

The coffee shop meeting goes surprisingly well. What you expected to be an hour of awkward dataset discussions turns into three hours of conversation that meanders far beyond statistics. Sunghoon, it turns out, has layers beneath his reserved exterior—he plays piano, reads philosophy for fun, and has a dry sense of humor that catches you off guard and makes you laugh harder than you have in weeks.

By the end of the evening, you've not only selected your dataset (coffee consumption versus academic performance—your suggestion, which he surprisingly agreed to), but you've also learned that his stammer appears when he's either nervous or passionate about a topic. You find both instances equally endearing.

When Friday's class rolls around, something shifts. You arrive only five minutes late (progress), and the space beside Sunghoon, which is usually empty, now seems to be waiting for you. You slide into the seat and he glances up from his notebook, the corner of his mouth lifting in that subtle way that's becoming familiar.

"You're almost on time," he says quietly, amusement in his eyes.

"Don't get used to it," you reply, but there's no bite to your words.

Throughout the class, your awareness of him is heightened—the way his brow furrows when he's concentrating, how his fingers tap thoughtfully against the desk when Professor Clarke asks a difficult question, the scent of his cologne when he leans closer to point something out on your screen.

After class, you find yourself hesitating as you pack up your things, watching as he meticulously organizes his notes.

"So," you begin, aiming for casual, "I was thinking... we should probably meet again this weekend to work on the project." You pause. "My roommate's gone for the weekend. We could use my dorm? Fewer distractions than the coffee shop."

Sunghoon looks up, his expression unreadable for a moment before he nods. "That would be... efficient."

You laugh at his choice of words. "Very statistical of you."

"I meant—" he starts, a hint of that stammer appearing.

"I know what you meant," you interrupt, grinning. "Saturday at four?"

He nods, adjusting his glasses. "I'll bring the data analysis. You bring the coffee."

"Deal."

Saturday arrives, and for the first time in your university career, you spend thirty minutes tidying your room before a study session. You tell yourself it's just basic courtesy, not because you care what Sunghoon thinks of your living space.

At precisely four o'clock, there's a knock at your door. Punctual as always.

You open it to find Sunghoon standing there in jeans and a simple button-down shirt, his laptop bag slung across his body. He's swapped his usual wire-frames for slightly thicker black glasses that somehow make him look even more attractive—scholarly but with an edge.

"You're making me look bad with this punctuality thing," you say by way of greeting, stepping aside to let him in.

"Sorry?" he offers, clearly unsure if he's actually done something wrong.

You laugh. "I'm joking. Come in."

Your dorm room is standard—bed, desk, small seating area with a loveseat and coffee table—but you've made it yours with art on the walls and plants on every available surface. Sunghoon takes it all in with curious eyes.

"I like your space," he says, and it sounds genuine.

"Thanks. Where should we set up? Desk or coffee table?"

"Either is fine," he says, that formal politeness still present even after your hours in the coffee shop.

You end up at the coffee table, sitting side by side on the loveseat, laptops open. For an hour, you actually make progress on the project. Sunghoon explains correlations in a way that finally makes sense, and you discover you have a talent for visualizing data in creative ways that makes his eyes light up with approval.

But as the afternoon wears on, the small space means your shoulders keep brushing, your knees occasionally touch, and each point of contact feels increasingly deliberate. When you reach for your coffee at the same moment he reaches for his tea, your hands collide, and neither of you pulls away immediately.

"Sorry," you both say at once, and then laugh.

"Great minds," you add, but you're distracted by how his eyes look behind those glasses, warm and focused entirely on you.

At some point, you shift positions, both of you turning toward each other to discuss a particularly complicated aspect of your analysis. Your knees are definitely touching now, and the loveseat suddenly seems much smaller than it did an hour ago.

"So if we compare these variables..." he's saying, but you're watching his mouth form the words more than listening to their meaning.

"Hmm?" you say, forcing your attention back to the screen.

He turns to look at you fully, and you realize how close your faces are. "You're not listening," he says, but there's no accusation in his voice.

"I'm distracted," you admit.

"By statistics?"

"By you."

The words hang in the air between you. Sunghoon blinks, his expression shifting from confusion to something more intense. He swallows visibly, and you watch the movement in his throat.

"I'm... distracting?" he asks, his voice lower than before.

"Extremely." Your eyes lock on his glasses, the way they frame his dark eyes, how they complete his devastatingly attractive intellectual look. "Especially with these on."

His eyebrows raise slightly in surprise. "The glasses?"

"God, yes," you breathe, moving closer. "You have no idea how fucking hot you look in them."

A flush spreads across his cheeks, but there's a new confidence in the way he holds your gaze. Without warning, he pulls you forward into a kiss that has nothing of his usual restraint. His laptop slides forgotten to the coffee table as you shift closer, and then somehow you're straddling his lap, your hands on either side of his face as you deepen the kiss.

When you break apart to breathe, his glasses are slightly askew. You straighten them gently, then run your fingers through his usually immaculate hair, deliberately messing it up while keeping the glasses perfectly in place.

"You're so sexy," you murmur against his mouth. "I've been thinking about this since the first day we were paired up."

His hands find your hips, holding you firmly against him. "I find that... statistically improbable," he manages, but his breathing is as uneven as yours.

"I'll show you improbable," you whisper, grinding down deliberately. His glasses fog slightly from the heat between you, and the sight sends a thrill through your body. "So fucking hot," you repeat, unable to stop yourself.

His hands slide beneath your shirt, exploring with a surprising boldness that makes you gasp. "We should—" he starts, breathing heavily.

“Yes,” you agree, already pulling him up from the loveseat, walking backwards toward your bed while keeping his mouth on yours. “The project can definitely wait.”

You fall back onto the mattress, pulling him down with you, careful not to knock his glasses off as he hovers above you. They’ve fogged again from the heat between your bodies, and something about that sight—this controlled, precise man coming undone while still looking every bit the hot intellectual—pushes you past any remaining hesitation.

“Leave them on,” you insist when he reaches to remove his glasses. “Please.”

His lips curve into a smile that’s nothing like his usual restrained expressions—this one is knowing, almost wicked. “If that’s what you want,” he murmurs, lowering his mouth to your neck.

“It’s definitely what I want,” you gasp as his teeth graze your skin. “Along with… everything else.”

There’s a playful air to each touch, a slow building of tension as you both start to peel away layers. You tug at the hem of his shirt first, sliding it up inch by tantalizing inch until he lifts his arms to help you pull it off. He returns the favor by slipping a hand under your blouse, fingertips teasing over your ribs. Every time he tries to hasten the pace, you grin and slow him down, dragging the fabric just a bit more before letting it fall away, leaving him momentarily breathless. The sound he makes—caught somewhere between a groan and a laugh—sends a thrill through you.

Time seems to blur as clothing is discarded piece by piece, inhibitions falling away with each new revelation of skin. The afternoon sunlight filters through your curtains, casting everything in a warm glow.

At some point, you find yourself above him, both of you completely bare except for his glasses, which have somehow remained perfectly in place despite everything. You pause for a moment, taking in the sight of him beneath you—all lean muscle and flushed skin, those wire-rimmed glasses still perched on his nose, slightly fogged from the heat between your bodies.

“You’re staring,” he whispers, a vulnerability in his voice despite the intimate position.

“Can you blame me?” You lean down, placing a gentle kiss on his lips, then another, and another, each one growing more insistent. “God, look at you.”

His hands find your hips, steadying you as you continue to kiss him, his glasses occasionally bumping against your face in a way that only heightens your desire. There's something impossibly erotic about him being completely naked except for those glasses—the contrast between his exposed body and that one remnant of his studious, put-together appearance.

"You're so fucking sexy," you breathe against his mouth. "How does anyone focus in that statistics class with you sitting there looking like this?"

He laughs softly, the sound vibrating against your lips. "I could ask you the same question."

Your kisses become more urgent, your bodies moving together with increasing need. The heat between you builds with each touch, each whispered encouragement. Sunghoon's usually careful movements grow bolder, more instinctive, as your hands explore each other's bodies. His glasses, still perfectly perched on his nose, begin to fog at the edges first—just a light mist that catches the dim light of your room. But as your passion intensifies, as your breathing grows more ragged and synchronized, the lenses cloud completely.

When you pull back to look at him, you can't help but laugh softly at the sight—this brilliantly composed man now completely blinded by the evidence of your shared desire, those glasses that make him look so irresistibly intellectual now rendered useless by the heat radiating between your bodies. To your surprise, he laughs too—not the polite chuckle you've heard in class or the soft amusement from your coffee shop conversations, but a genuine, uninhibited sound that seems to come from somewhere deep inside him. It's rich and warm and completely unguarded.

"I can't see a thing," he admits, his voice husky with desire and amusement. His hands find your face despite his temporary blindness, thumbs tracing your cheekbones with unexpected precision. "But I don't need to see to know exactly where you are."

"Is that so?" you challenge, your breath catching as his fingers trail down your neck, across your collarbone, mapping you with deliberate attention.

"I've been studying you," he murmurs, his touch making you shiver despite the heat between you. "Memorizing. Analyzing patterns." His hands continue their exploration, finding every sensitive spot with remarkable accuracy. "It's very... statistical."

You laugh against his mouth. "Only you could make statistics sound sexy."

Through the fogged lenses, you can just barely make out how his eyes darken at your words. "I have other statistical terms I could demonstrate," he offers, surprising you again with his boldness. His accent becomes slightly more pronounced when he's like this—another detail you've grown to cherish.

"Show me," you whisper, and he does—his hands and mouth conducting a thorough analysis of cause and effect, of stimuli and response, until you're clutching at his shoulders and gasping his name. All while those fogged-up glasses remain perfectly in place, the final vestige of his composed exterior while everything else between you unravels into glorious chaos.

You’re already bare beneath him, skin flushed from teasing and anticipation, but the only thing still clinging to his body—those damn glasses—make it so much worse. Or better. Definitely better.

Sunghoon hovers over you, gaze dark behind the lenses, lips swollen and slightly parted as he takes in the sight of you. You should be embarrassed at how wanton you must look, legs spread for him, body already trembling, but he’s the one who looks wrecked. His composure is gone, shattered somewhere between the desperate kisses and the way you dragged your nails down his back.

His lips quirk. “Still want me to leave them on?”

“Don’t even think about taking them off.”

His smile turns wicked, and then he’s moving—kissing, sucking, trailing his mouth down your body with purpose. His fingers dig into your thighs, spreading you wider, and then he’s right there—close enough that you can feel the ghost of his breath against you, the heat of it making your stomach clench.

He doesn’t start slow. No teasing, no light flicks of his tongue just to test the waters. Sunghoon eats you like he’s been starving for this, like he’s been waiting for the moment he could taste you, drown in you. His tongue is hot and relentless, curling against you just right, pressing where you need him most, sending shockwaves through every nerve in your body.

But what really undoes you is the feeling of his glasses pressing against your inner thighs, the cold metal contrasting with the heat of his mouth. Every time he moves, every time he adjusts his angle, the frames shift against your skin—slightly rough, slightly smooth, a reminder of exactly who is between your legs and how absolutely ruined he’s making you.

You fist the sheets, hips jerking up into his mouth, but he pins you down effortlessly, a strong arm wrapped around your thigh to keep you exactly where he wants you. He groans when you tug at his hair, the vibrations shooting through you, making you gasp his name.

“Fuck, Sunghoon—”

His response is a low hum against your clit, and your whole body shakes. You feel the damp heat of his breath, the slick slide of his tongue, but more than anything, you feel the weight of those goddamn glasses as they drag along your skin, fogging up even more, smudging against your inner thigh every time he moves deeper, harder, sloppier.

The sheer filth of it makes you clench around nothing.

Sunghoon notices, because of course he does—because he’s been studying you this whole time, memorizing what makes you gasp, what makes your thighs tremble around his head. And he’s smug about it, too, because when he pulls back just enough to glance up at you, lips glistening, glasses just barely slipping down his nose, he smirks.

“You like that, don’t you?” His voice is raspy, breathless, wrecked.

You don’t even try to deny it. “Yes—God, yes, don’t stop.”

Sunghoon’s smirk deepens, and he doesn’t make you beg for it. He dives right back in, tongue flicking, sucking, his grip on your thighs tightening as you lose yourself completely. The drag of his glasses, the precise way he adjusts his angle to push you higher, the way he groans into you like he’s getting off on this just as much as you are—it’s too much.

The coil in your stomach snaps hard, pleasure crashing over you so intensely that you barely realize you’re pulling at his hair, moaning his name like a prayer, like you might fall apart completely if he stops.

Sunghoon doesn’t stop. Not right away. He works you through the aftershocks, his tongue slow, methodical, lazy in a way that makes you shudder from overstimulation. Only when your body twitches beneath him does he finally pull away, chin glistening, glasses fucking ruined.

You’re still gasping when he crawls back up your body, hovering over you, his mouth right there, his glasses so close you can see the way they’re fogged-up and smudged with sweat.

When you finally collapse beside each other, spent and satisfied, his glasses are askew once more. You reach over to straighten them, and he catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm.

"So," you say, when you've caught your breath, "should we tell Professor Clarke we've found an interesting correlation to study?"

Sunghoon laughs, the sound free and unrestrained in a way you hadn't heard before today. "I don't think this is what he had in mind for the assignment."

"His loss," you murmur, snuggling closer. "I'd say our statistical analysis was very... thorough."

"We should probably actually work on the project at some point," he says, but makes no move to get up.

"Tomorrow," you promise, running a finger along his jawline. "I think we need to collect more data first."

His eyebrow raises above the rim of his glasses. "For the sake of academic integrity?"

"Absolutely," you agree solemnly, before dissolving into laughter.

The statistics of probability have never been so compelling.

-

Over the next few weeks, your statistics class takes on an entirely new dimension. What was once your least favorite part of the week has become the highlight—not because you've suddenly developed a passion for data analysis, but because of the subtle dance that unfolds between you and Sunghoon twice a week in that computer lab.

The Monday after your "study session," you arrive to class five minutes early—a personal record. Sunghoon is already there, of course, and the moment he sees you, his ears turn slightly pink. When you slide into the seat next to him, now officially your spot, he gives you a small smile that feels like a secret.

"You're early," he says, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

"I had motivation," you reply, letting your knee brush against his under the desk.

His eyes flicker to your lips for a fraction of a second before returning to his notebook. "I hope it wasn't just for... statistical analysis."

"Depends on how you define statistics," you whisper just as Professor Clarke calls the class to order.

Throughout the lecture, you're acutely aware of every movement Sunghoon makes—how he adjusts his glasses when he's thinking, the precise way he takes notes, the occasional glance he throws your way when he thinks you're not looking. Halfway through class, you deliberately drop your pen between you. When you both reach for it, your fingers touch, and he doesn't pull away. Instead, he hooks his pinky finger over yours for just a moment before handing you the pen. The small gesture sends a flutter through your chest.

After class, you walk together to the coffee shop without needing to discuss it. Somehow, it's already become your routine.

"How's the dataset compilation going?" he asks as you find a small table in the corner.

"That's what you want to talk about right now? Really?" You raise an eyebrow.

A faint smile plays at his lips. "We do have a project due in three weeks."

"Always so responsible," you sigh dramatically, but there's fondness in your voice. "It's going fine. I've got the coffee consumption survey data from about fifty students so far."

He nods approvingly. "That's a decent sample size for our purposes."

When your drinks arrive—his Earl Grey and your excessively complicated latte—you notice something different about him. He's still quiet, still thoughtful, but there's a new ease to his movements, a softness around his eyes when he looks at you.

"What?" he asks, catching you studying him.

"Nothing," you say, then reconsider. "Actually, not nothing. You seem... different."

He takes a sip of his tea, considering. "I feel different," he admits after a moment. "With you."

The simple sincerity of his words catches you off guard. For all your flirtatious confidence, his straightforward honesty disarms you completely.

"Good different?" you ask, suddenly feeling shy.

"Very good different," he confirms, and beneath the table, his foot rests against yours. Not by accident.

By the third week, you've fallen into patterns that blend the academic with the intimate. Your Tuesday and Thursday afternoons are devoted to actual project work—usually in the library where the public setting keeps you reasonably focused. 

Your Saturday “study sessions” in your dorm room are significantly less productive in the statistical sense, though you joke that you’re certainly collecting plenty of data on other variables.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes every time you say it, but you know he loves it—loves how eager, how shameless you are when it comes to him. Because every time you spread your legs for him, every time you drag him into another compromising position, he never tells you no.

Case Study #1: The Textbooks

It starts with an innocent enough setup—Sunghoon sitting cross-legged on the floor, back against your bed, flipping through a statistics textbook while you sit across from him, pretending to study. But it’s boring. He looks too good in his glasses, sleeves rolled up, the slightest furrow in his brow as he concentrates. And before you even realize you’re moving, you’re crawling into his lap, straddling him right there on top of the book.

He barely has time to exhale your name before you sink down onto him, making both of you groan.

The hardcover digs into your knees, the pages creasing beneath you, but you couldn’t care less. Sunghoon is buried inside you, stretching you open, warm and deep and perfect, and the only data you’re analyzing is how his breath stutters when you roll your hips just right.

“Fuck, you’re unreal—” he pants, hands gripping your waist, watching you through the slightly fogged lenses of his glasses as you use him, ride him slow, grind on him like you want to ruin him.

You do. You want to wreck him just as much as he’s wrecking you. The friction, the delicious drag, the way his hands squeeze your hips to urge you to go faster, harder—it all shreds your self-control.

By the time you both come undone, gasping and clinging to each other, the textbook beneath you is thoroughly creased, sticky, ruined. Neither of you even bother looking at it.

Case Study #2: The Desk Chair

Another Saturday, another useless attempt at studying.

Sunghoon’s seated at your desk this time, one leg lazily spread, hand bracing his forehead as he tries to focus. But you’re kneeling between his legs, and the moment you reach for his zipper, his entire body tenses.

“You’re insatiable.”

“And?” You tug his pants down just enough to free him, palming his length, watching him harden in your hand as his breathing turns shallow.

He leans back, exhaling sharply when your lips part and you take him deep. His hand finds the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as you swirl your tongue around him, tease him, make him fall apart.

His glasses slip down his nose as he watches you, half-lidded and dazed, jaw slack as you take him deeper, sucking, hollowing your cheeks, making obscene little noises that drive him insane.

He trembles when he finally spills down your throat, groaning your name, head thrown back against the chair.

And the moment he catches his breath, he drags you into his lap, flips you onto the desk, and fucks you stupid.

Case Study #3: Against the Window

Another week. Another “study session.” Another location.

This time, you find yourself pressed against the glass of your dorm window, palms splayed, breath fogging the pane as Sunghoon pounds into you from behind.

The curtains are open.

You don’t know if anyone can see—if someone walking by on the street below can look up and spot your bare body, the lewd way you’re bent over, Sunghoon’s hands gripping your hips as he drives into you with punishing force.

But you don’t care.

All you care about is the way he grunts into your ear, his glasses slightly askew, one hand slipping down to rub your clit, making you jerk and gasp his name as pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave.

“Keep your eyes open,” he growls, voice thick with lust, dragging his lips along your shoulder. “Look outside. Look at what a mess you are.”

Case Study #4: The Shower

It’s late, and you should be asleep. But instead, you’re pressed up against the tiled wall of your tiny dorm shower, water scalding hot, steam curling around you as Sunghoon lifts you up, holds you against him, and fucks you slow, deep.

His glasses are gone, finally.

They’d fogged up the moment he stepped into the shower, and the second you’d made a joke about it, he’d taken them off and set them on the sink. But you don’t miss them too much—not when his mouth is on your throat, sucking bruises into your wet skin, not when his fingers dig into your thighs, keeping you in place as he rolls his hips into you with exquisite precision.

You come twice before you finally stumble out of the shower, exhausted, dripping, completely spent.

And the moment you walk back into your dorm room, still naked, Sunghoon picks up his glasses, slides them back on, and gives you a look that tells you he’s nowhere near finished with you.

Case Study #5: The Floor (Again, Because You Can’t Stop)

At this point, you don’t even make it to the bed.

You’re both desperate, panting, **clawing at each other like you can’t stand the idea of being apart for another second.**The moment Sunghoon pushes you onto the floor, you’re already wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him down, gasping when he fills you in one smooth thrust.

It’s fast, dirty, messy.

He grits out your name, one hand bracing beside your head, the other gripping your thigh, holding you open as he slams into you, pace brutal, relentless. The carpet burns on your back will be worth it.

He loses his glasses at some point, but you don’t even notice—you’re too busy coming apart beneath him, clawing at his back, moaning his name like you’ll never get enough of him.

Maybe you won’t.

Because the second you catch your breath, still tangled up in him, you’re already thinking about where you’ll fuck next.

What surprises you most is how much you enjoy both versions of your time together. The project, which should be tedious, becomes engaging through Sunghoon's perspective. He has a way of finding patterns in chaos that makes even the driest data seem fascinating. And through your influence, he's learning to approach problems more creatively, to see beyond the rigid frameworks he's always relied on.

"What if we visualize it this way instead?" you suggest one Tuesday, sketching a completely unorthodox chart on the margin of his meticulously organized notes.

His initial reaction is skepticism—you can see it in the slight furrow of his brow—but he considers it longer than he would have three weeks ago.

"It's unconventional," he says finally.

"But?"

"But it might actually work better for presenting the correlation," he concedes, and the smile you give him is so bright it makes the student at the next table look over.

In class, Professor Clarke notices the change in both of you. Your questions become more insightful, Sunghoon's responses more animated. When you present your initial findings mid-semester, the professor actually seems impressed by your unusual approach to visualization.

"An interesting methodology," he comments, adjusting his own glasses in a way that reminds you of Sunghoon. "Unorthodox, but effective."

You beam at Sunghoon, who ducks his head slightly but can't hide his pleased expression.

After class, he catches your hand as you're packing up—a gesture he would never have initiated before.

"We make a good team," he says quietly.

"The best," you agree, squeezing his fingers before reluctantly letting go. Public displays still make him slightly uncomfortable, and you respect his boundaries.

-

It's during a rainy Friday evening in your dorm room, six weeks into your relationship (though neither of you has officially labeled it as such), that something shifts again.

You're sprawled on your bed with your laptop, Sunghoon sitting at your desk reviewing your latest statistical findings, his glasses reflecting the blue light of the screen. Classical music plays softly from his phone—another new development. He's been gradually introducing you to his favorite composers, and you've found you actually enjoy the background music while working.

"Your scatterplot is missing a data point," he says, turning to look at you.

"Mmm, probably deleted it accidentally," you reply, not looking up from your position. "Is it important?"

"All data points are important," he says, but there's amusement in his voice rather than criticism.

You roll onto your back, laptop balanced on your stomach. "That sounds like something that would be on a statistics department t-shirt. 'All data points matter.'"

He laughs—a sound that's become less rare but no less thrilling to hear. "I'd wear it."

"Of course you would," you tease. "With your glasses and a pocket protector."

He makes a face at you. "I don't own a pocket protector."

"Yet," you add with a grin.

He shakes his head, turning back to the screen, but you catch the smile he tries to hide. After a moment, he speaks again without looking at you.

"My parents want to meet you."

You sit up so quickly your laptop nearly slides off your stomach. "What?"

Now he turns, his expression a mixture of nervousness and something softer. "I mentioned you during our weekly call. Multiple times, apparently. My mother... noticed."

"You talk about me to your parents?" You can't keep the pleased surprise from your voice.

He adjusts his glasses, a gesture you now recognize as his tell when he's feeling vulnerable. "It seems I do."

"What do you tell them?" You set your laptop aside, giving him your full attention.

"That you're brilliant in ways I'm not. That you see solutions I miss." He pauses. "That you make statistics class the best part of my week."

Your heart does that skipping thing it did the first day Professor Clarke paired you together, only stronger now.

"Sunghoon Park," you say softly, "are you saying I'm statistically significant to you?"

His expression turns serious, though his eyes remain gentle. "With a p-value approaching zero," he replies, and though it's phrased as a joke, his tone makes it clear it's anything but.

In statistics, a p-value approaching zero indicates an extremely high likelihood that an observed effect is real and not due to chance. It's the closest thing to certainty that statistics allows.

You cross the room to where he sits, gently taking his face between your hands. His glasses are slightly smudged, and you resist the urge to clean them, focusing instead on the eyes behind them.

"So," you say, "when do I meet these parents who raised such a statistically significant nerd?"

He laughs, pulling you into his lap in a move that would have seemed impossibly bold from him just weeks ago. "They're visiting next weekend. Dinner on Saturday?"

"I'm there," you promise, sealing it with a kiss.

-

The day of your semester project presentation arrives with an unexpected lack of anxiety. You're prepared—more prepared than you've been for any academic presentation in your life. Partly because the subject has actually become interesting to you, but mostly because working on it meant spending hours with Sunghoon.

You stand beside him at the front of the class, watching him explain your methodology with a confidence that wasn't there at the beginning of the semester. His voice is still quiet, still measured, but there's a strength behind it now, an assurance that comes from truly understanding his material. When he gestures to your creative visualization on the screen, there's a hint of pride in his voice that makes your chest warm.

When it's your turn to present, you catch him watching you with undisguised admiration. You explain the correlations you found between different types of coffee consumption and various academic performance metrics, throwing in jokes that make the class laugh and complex statistical terms that make Professor Clarke nod approvingly.

"And in conclusion," you finish, "we found that while caffeine consumption generally correlates with improved academic performance up to a point, the type of environment in which the coffee is consumed may be an equally significant factor."

"Furthermore," Sunghoon adds, stepping forward to stand beside you, shoulder to shoulder, "we discovered that the companionship variable—whether students studied alone or with others—showed the strongest positive correlation with both satisfaction and performance outcomes."

His eyes meet yours for a brief moment, and you know he's not just talking about the data anymore.

When Professor Clarke gives your presentation an A and commends your "complementary analytical approaches," you resist the urge to high-five Sunghoon in front of everyone. Instead, you wait until you're outside the building, then throw your arms around him in celebration.

To your surprise, he lifts you slightly off the ground in his enthusiasm, spinning once before setting you down, his face flushed with excitement and mild embarrassment at his own uncharacteristic display.

"We did it," he says, adjusting his glasses which were knocked askew by your hug.

"Was there ever any doubt?" you reply, reaching up to straighten them properly. "We're statistically significant, remember?"

His smile softens, and right there on the path outside the statistics building, with students streaming past on their way to other classes, he kisses you without hesitation or self-consciousness.

"What was that for?" you ask when he pulls away, delighted but surprised by the public display.

"I've been collecting data," he says, his eyes crinkling behind those glasses you've grown to love, "and I've formed a hypothesis."

"Oh?" You raise an eyebrow. "And what hypothesis is that, Mr. Park?"

He takes your hand, lacing his fingers through yours as you begin walking toward the coffee shop that's become your place.

"That I'm in love with you," he says simply. "And unlike most statistical conclusions, I'm one hundred percent certain."

You stop walking, turning to face him fully. "That's a bold statistical claim. Absolute certainty is rare in your field."

"I have compelling evidence," he counters, and the confidence in his voice, so different from the hesitant student you met months ago, makes your heart race.

"I might need to review your data," you tease, though your voice catches slightly.

"Extensive observation over time," he begins, stepping closer. "Consistent results across multiple variables. Reproducible effects." His voice drops lower. "Significant positive impact on all quality-of-life metrics."

"Very scientific," you murmur, your hands finding their way to his chest.

"I thought so," he agrees, his eyes serious despite the playful exchange. "So my conclusion stands."

You rise on your tiptoes, pressing your forehead to his. "Well, as someone who's conducted a parallel study, I can confirm your findings. The evidence suggests I'm in love with you too."

His smile, rare and full, lights up his entire face. "Independently verified results. The best kind."

“Should we celebrate this breakthrough with coffee?” you suggest, already knowing his answer.

“I was thinking maybe we skip the coffee today,” he says, surprising you again. “I have other hypotheses I’d like to test.”

“Professor Clarke would be shocked at your dedication to statistical research,” you laugh, letting him lead you in the direction of your dorm instead of the coffee shop.

“Some variables,” he says with newfound confidence, “are worth studying in depth.”

You lean in close, pressing your lips right against the shell of his ear, and whisper the kind of filth that would make even the most shameless person blush.

“Then why don’t you pin me down the second we walk through that door, shove your face between my legs, and eat me so fucking good I forget my own name? And when I can’t take anymore, you’ll flip me over and fuck me like you’re trying to imprint yourself inside me—deep, rough, until I’m crying and drooling on the sheets, too dumb to do anything but take it.”

Sunghoon stops breathing.

You feel the exact moment your words hit him—his entire body locks up, his grip on your wrist tightens, his jaw clenches so hard you swear you hear his teeth grind.

His glasses fog immediately.

A strangled noise escapes him, something between a curse and a choked groan, and then he’s moving.

Not just moving—dragging you, fast, purposeful, like a man on a mission.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters under his breath, voice wrecked, dangerous, and it sends a thrill straight through you.

By the time you reach your dorm, he’s already reaching for the door handle, barely keeping himself together, and the second it clicks shut behind you—

You know he’s about to make good on every single word you just whispered.

That, by any metric, was statistically significant indeed.

-

TL: @ziiao @beariegyu @seonhoon @somuchdard @naurwayyyyy @bloomiize @zzhengyu @annybah @ijustwannareadstuff20 @ddolleri @elairah @dreamy-carat @geniejunn @kristynaaah @zoemeltigloos @mellowgalaxystrawberry @inlovewithningning @vveebee @m3wkledreamy @lovelycassy @highway-143 @koizekomi @tiny-shiny @simbabyikeu @cristy-101 @dearestdreamies @enhaverse713586 @cybe4 @starniras @wonuziex

[hayatoseyepatch]

═══°∴,*⋅✲════〖✰〗════✲⋅*,∴°═══

Description: Getting kinky with the windbreaker boys. I have so many thoughts about these men and I just needed to get them out of my system. Characters: Toma Hiragi, Ren Kaji, Haruka Sakura, Hayato Suo, & Yamato Endo. Word Count: 2.2k Tags: fem!reader, brat taming, praise, somnophilia, edging, mommy kink, dacryphilia, consent non consent, choking, degradation, oral (fem!receiving), penetrative sex, dirty talk.

═══°∴,*⋅✲════〖✰〗════✲⋅*,∴°═══

a/n: These are more like thirsts than headcannons but oh well. I might expand on some of these eventually and turn them into full fics if I can sit down and commit to it. It the mental illness, innit? Regardless, I hope you enjoyed these little blurbs! Special shout out to @foxyfiction & @to-eden for helping me with the prompts for some of these, you both are amazing. <3

I also have a masterlist now, if you’re interested that could be found : HERE

═══°∴,*⋅✲════〖✰〗════✲⋅*,∴°═══

Brat Taming

Hiragi had enough of you today, your skirt pulled up high, a constant switch in your hips while on patrol today with the Tamon team. Constantly teasing him, whether it was pulling him into an alley for an impromptu make out session, bending over in front of him letting him catch a glimpse of your already wet panties, or rubbing against his perpetually hard cock as you “just needed to slip past him real quick”. He was patient, tension building throughout the day coming to a fever pitch when you had both made it back to your shared apartment. He was on you in moments, lifting the back of your skirt to lay a harsh lap to you ass. Grabbing a fistful of your hair as he growls in your ear. “ I want you on that bed and I want you completely bare, do you understand?” He releases you hair, watching as you strip for him, climbing on the bed moments after you do.

Grabbing a hold of your cheeks with a rough hand he forces you to look up at him, eyes glazed over with arousal. Squishing your cheeks he props your mouth open, shoving a long digit past your lips. He grins as your mouth instinctively wraps around the digit, pumping the finger in and out of your lips, eyes rolling back as he feels your tongue wrap around the digit. Sucking his teeth as you shoot him a wink as he stuffs a second digit in your mouth. “Such a fucking brat, you know that?” He forces your thighs apart, free hand punctuating his words with a harsh slap to your dripping cunt.

His fingers sliding down, his fist two digits using your saliva that coated them to rub fast smooth circles against the sensitive bud. “Don’t forget your still getting punished baby.” He tsks giving you a sharp toothed grin. “Look at your pretty cunt, clenching around nothing, poor baby.” He coos, leaning down to your ear, lips grazing the shell to whisper. “You’re going to have to come from just my fingers before you can have my cock baby, think you can do that for me, hmm?”

Praise (Receiving)

Kaji had lost his temper once more, today a fight had broken out. One of the members of the opposing gang had harshly grabbed your arm, tugging you against him spitting extremities about the things he plandded to do to you. The words coupled with the fear in your wide eyes had Kaji seeing red. Completely blacking out in a fit of rage, he hated his, he especially hated you seeing him like this. The few times he had lost his temper in front of you, he ran, unable to face you. But not this time, you wouldn’t let him run from you. Grabbing the sleeve of his jacket you were quick to take him back to your apartment, silencing whatever apologies or exasperations with your lips against his.

Walking him backward toward your bedroom you wait for the back of his knees to hit the mattress. Pushing him to sit down as you climb on his lap. Mouths entangling in a heated embrace, clothes being pulled from each others bodies in a rush of passsion. Kaji trails kisses down your exposed body, lips wrapping arount a perked bud taking your nipple into his mouth. You rocked your hips against his, gronaing into the air. Your hands unfaten his pants, and with his help you pull his cock from his pants. You give him a smile, stroking his cheeks, eyes soft with fondness. “You're such a good boy Ren, always so good to me.”

You coo, the praise falling from your lips as you place one more kiss to his lips. Moving to grab him by the base, positioning him at your entrance, the desperate look in his eyes is all the confirmation you need to sink down on his length. You bite your lip, letting out a whimper at the feeling of his thick cock filling you to the brim. You tangle one hand in his hair, pulling lightly on his blonde strands, while the other moves up to his shoulder, nails digging into the skin. Pulling away only far enough to mumble into his lips. “Fuck, Ren.. Feel so good, you fill me up so good baby. I love you so much.”

Somnophillia

You wake feeling something warm between your legs. It isn’t long before your head is thrown back against the pillows you were once sleeping soundly against, voice crying out in pleasure as your boyfriend’s tongue draws slow patterns on your sensitive clit. You look down at him eyes lidded with sleep and now lust. “Haru.. what are you doing?” You mumble, blinking the sleep from your eyes. Between your thighs you can feel his cheeks heat up, a feirce blush on his features. He barely pulls from your cunt, mumbling against your center. “Couldn’t sleep, needed to taste you, ‘m want you so bad.”

He groans, hips rutting into the mattress, desperate for some friction to his aching cock. Any further arguments are silenced by a loud moan erupting from your lips, Sakura licks a fat stripe up your clit brfore reattaching his lips fully to your nub. He eats your cunt with such desperation, as if he needed to conume you to keep air in his lungs. His tongue is soon replaced by the rough pad of his thumb, head ducking lower to slide his tongue inside of your entrance, sliding against the silk walls of your pussy. He groans deep in his throat, the vibrations of the noise only enhancing the pleasure you’re feeling. ”Always taste so fucking good, need more..” He groans, pulling from your center, he slides up your body lips attacking yours with reckless hunger. He slid the material of his boxers down in one swift motion, grabbing himself by the base of his cock, collecting your wetness on the tip of his cock using it to ease himself inside your velvety walls.

He lets out a loud groan as he fully sheaths his cock inside you, head dipping to capture your lips with his own. The kiss is immediately laced with hunger, teeth clashing and tongues dancing in each others mouths. He pulls away, heavy breaths fanning against your lips as he sets a harsh steady pace from the start. “Fuck baby… can’t even sleep without you consuming my thoughts. Need you desperately… constantly.. feel like I’ll lose it if I’m not inside of you.”

Edging/Mommy Kink

You place a delicate kiss to his lips, trailing your kisses down his body until you were situated between his thighs. Looking up at him with hooded eyes from your current position. “You weren't lying baby boy. Look at how hard you are.” You grin, not letting him answer as you gave a few experimental tugs to his cock. Leaning up to lick a fat stripe from his base to his tip, collecting the pre come that had been steadily dripping since you had begun. Pulling away and leaning up once again, you grab his face in your hand, forcing his mouth open before letting your saliva mixed with his precum drip from your mouth to his. Placing a hand over his mouth, you lean down to his ear. “Swallow baby, I want you to taste us.”

You take his shock as an opportunity to lower yourself back down between his legs, swirling your tongue around his sensitive mushroom tip, taking as much as your throat would allow, hollowing your cheeks. Beginning to bob your head up and down on  his cock. Choji tugged at the cloth around his wrists, restraining himself as much as he could to not buck his hips. Failing miserably as his body writhed under yours He cried out as he felt your warm mouth around his cock, tears collecting by the corners of his eyes. Whimpers and cries falling from his lips as he found every ounce of restraint to not let his body betray him. The could in his stomach building once more for what seemed like the umpteenth time that evening. He didn’t want to fuck all of this up and receive punishment even further. “Mommy, please your mouth is so warm… be careful. I dont wanna come.. too soon.”

You grin around him, looking up at him through your lashes, nearly removing yourself from him before plunging back down, taking him until you feel him hit the back of your throat. You do this a few more times before pulling yourself off his cock with a 'pop'. You make your way up his body, getting impatient yourself, feeling your cunt clench around nothing. Straddling his abdomen, right above where he needed you most,  pressing your lips against his in a heated kiss. Desperately trying not to show that you were just as affected by your actions. You grab a fistful of his hair, tugging harshly, effectively separating your lips as you speak against his lips. “Tell mommy what you want baby boy. Go on, use your words I want to hear you.”

Dacryphillia

Each one of your pleas fog his mind with uncontrollable lust. Wram brown irises drowning in it. “So desperate for me already, darling, we havent even begun the main event.” He teases, directly into your ear, as he finally lines the tip of his thick cock with your entrance. Suo had been teasing you for what seemed like hours. Pulling orgasm after orgasm from your overstimulated cunt. Having made you come undone on his fingers and tongue several times, your pussy having felt desperatly empty without his cock filling you. He grins as you whine, his head just barely probing your entrance. “Please, Haya.” You whimper desperate for him to do something, anything, tears blurring your vision as they collected at your lashline.

“Please?” He tiles his head in mocking obliviousness. “Please what princess? Gotta tell me what to do or I cant help you, tell me what is it that you want?” He coos, free hand sliding up your stomach, thumb circling a pert nipple. Grinning he leans down tugging on your earlobe with this teeth, breaths fanning against your ear as he continues to speak. “Want me to fill this pretty pussy up with my cock? Feeling you flutter against me, whimpering out my name from those beautiful lips. Is that what youre asking for my pretty little bunny?”

He grins eyes lithe with mischief as you continue to babble, words coming out in a jumbled mess of pleas and calls of his name. Fat tears stream down your cheeks, desperation for him consuming your entire being. Suo’s hand coming up to caress your cheek. Thumb swiping at the tears that cascaded down your face. “Oh, sweet baby” He purrs, slipping the same thumb past your lips, letting you taste the salty wetness of your tears. “Crying for me already? We’ve barely even started.” He giggles, hips lurching forward, slamming into you to the hilt with one swift movement of his hips. Groaning as your back arches from the bed, eyes rolling back with a scream of his name being forced from your lips. “As much as I’d love to hear you beg for it, ive been waiting for too long for you my princess.~”

Cat and Mouse/CNC

Your breaths come out in heavy pants, your heart racing in your chest, your feet slamming against the grassy terrain as you run as fast as your legs can carry you. The shadow of the figure on your tail looming behind you. You pushed further, weaving in and out of trees to shake your assailant. The dark wooded area was easy to get lost in. You had only paused your running for a moment, attempting to take in your soundings, looking for a route to escape. Attempting to catch your breath, you were sure you had lost him. Just as you were about to turn on your heel and take off once more your eyes shoot wide, feeling fingers of a large hand wrap themselves around your throat. Your attacker using their grip as leverage  to shove you roughly against a tree, the larger figure looms over yours. Tattooed fingers squeezing just enough to make gaining air flow a bit difficult. Lips grazing your ear as he leans down to your height. “Gotcha~”

Endo’s piercing blue eyes lock with yours, leaning down to capture your lips in a heated kiss. Tongue invading your mouth, free hand coming up to cup your dripping cunt. Fingers circling your clit through the thin fabric of your panties. He smirks against your lips as you moan into his mouth. Pulling from you, he quickly removes your soiled panties, running his finger between your soaked slit. Bringing his finger to his lips taking in the way you taste, moaning around his fingers.

“Fuck doll, you taste so fucking good. Already so fucking wet for me.” He uses his thumb to force your mouth open, spitting a glob of saliva between your parted lips. “Go on babydoll, taste yourself.” He chuckles as you instinctively swallow, turning you in his embrace so your bent over. Flipping up your skirt, he leans back to take all of you in, eyes hungrily wracking over your exposed sex. Parting your folds with a thumb, watching as your entrance contracts around nothing a large grin splits across his face as he lands a harsh slap against your ass. “Gotta remind you who this belongs too huh? This cunt is mine princess.”

═══°∴,*⋅✲════〖✰〗════✲⋅*,∴°═══

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed! I already have a part two in mind for this, so keep an eye out. Until then, see you later!

[hexlenx]

Could you do a story where Sergei is tough, but also overprotective of the protagonist, pls?

I love your stories

A/N: ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY. I am so glad you requested this because lately I've been obsessed with sergei and have been thinking of a way to make a small fic about his toxic self so you requesting this gave me an idea! Thank you so much anon! It might be a little different from your request though but the tough part as well as overprotectiveness is still there, just more dark themes. I hope you don't mind that though, I just feel like it fits more with his character.

YOU'RE MINE, ALRIGHT? — sergei kravinoff

note: I do not own this man because he owns himself, periodt. This is made purely out of entertainment purposes!

warning!: violence, age-gap, (somewhat) toxic relationship, little blood, swearing, sexual harassment, mentions of death, 18+, and sergei being hot (man is a warning himself) mdni

__________________

You were only taking your nightly stroll in the forest while your lover was in the cabin somewhere in the woods that he made you move in after knowing each other for a while. Your relationship with him was not really ideal but you loved him with all your heart and vice versa.

Your lover might not show it but he cares about you more than he let on. It worried you for quite some time now that maybe you weren't good enough for him, you refused to do such things that he called 'the hunt'. You weren't prepared to do something so unnerving. Surprisingly, he agreed to let you prepare after a bit of arguing and silent treatments of course. Still, you thought that he might leave you because you have never done anything for him other than sit still and be pretty.

But you were so wrong.

Sighing as an owl hoots through the trees and crickets sounding in your surroundings, you now began to walk towards the path to the cabin. You've basically just walked straight from here to there so it wasn't that hard to find your way back.

Noises of leaves crushing alerted you as you walked down the path. Multiple voices sounded from the right side of you but before you could hide, a bright flashlight flickered towards your figure, blinding you.

Hissing a bit from the bright light, you blinked your eyes before your vision focused to four males who looked about a couple years older than you. An ache appeared in your stomach as you felt like you had a bad feeling about the situation.

"Well, well. Look at what we have here." One of the men whistled as his eyes looked at your frame up and down.

"Quite a looker, right?" The other one on his right licked his lips in anticipation.

"Think we could use her for entertainment?" Another one from behind snickered. As if a light bulb appeared on top of their heads, their eyes lit up dangerously making you step back in fear as you heard their conversation.

No, please don't.

"Don't worry, doll. This will only last for the whole night." The man in the middle reassured but it was anything but reassuring. Before you could sprint off, one of them had already grabbed you by the arms, arms tightening around you as you continued to struggle.

Fear was evident in your eyes as tears started to prickle in them. This cannot be happening, you thought. You were a bit far from home so you couldn't scream for your lover because of the distance. You were now sobbing as the men took their time in touching you. Hands ripping off your shirt leaving you in your bra as well as your lover's boxers that you wore since you've used all of yours already.

You could feel their hands groping each part of your body before they finally decided to spread your legs. You were struggling to close it because multiple pair of hands were pinning you down to the ground next to a tall tree.

Sergei, that was the only thing you could think of.

Sergei, my love.

Sergei, please.

Save me.

"SERGEI!" You suddenly screamed out your lover's name making the men flinch from your voice.

"Fucking hell—this bitch is so loud!"

"Scream all you want, love. But no one ain't gonna hear you here." They all laughed as you kept sobbing. Why must this happen? Your bra was long forgotten as you tried to get your hands free but alas you cannot. The man between your legs then lowered his head towards one of your breasts but before he could latch on it a loud thump interrupted them.

"You dare.." A deep voice growled out as the four men stopped what they were doing. They slowly looked up and saw a very muscular man that stalked over them. His eyes glowing in a yellow serpent like color, his forearms hardening, as well as a very dark and murderous look on his face. The man menacingly stalked towards them as the men were quick to scramble up to their feet fixing their clothes before sprinting out.

The man immediately chased them and since all four were running at the same direction, he jumped high and landed in front of them to stop them from escaping.

"You dare to break and enter my forest, not only that.." He continued his words from before. Grabbing one of them by the neck he tossed him to a tree, hard. Making a sickening crack to be heard in the air, causing the others to look at the man in fear.

"You hurt what is mine."

You woke up in a familiar room and the warmth surrounding your from the fireplace. You were confused, weren't you just in the forest taking a nightly stroll while your lover was busy?

Just then your head started to ache as you remembered what happened. You hugged yourself as you now began to sob quietly, you were harassed, sexually to the point that you were ripped off your clothing. It made you feel disgusted with yourself, what would Sergei think of you now?

Footsteps sounded from behind you as you continued to wrap your arms around yourself hoping to shield yourself from the exposure from the world. Hot steaming food was suddenly placed in front of you as you blinked from surprise before looking away, not wanting to consume any food.

"Eat." It was your lover. Sergei plopped down on the spot beside you taking the spoon topped with food from the plate before putting said plate on the drawer beside the bed. He grabbed you by the chin before gently forcing you to look in his direction. This gave you no choice but to eat the food on the spoon he held up.

This continued for a few moments until you finished your food. The silence was deafening and it bothered you but it seems like your lover doesn't see that.

"I'm sorry."

Sergei paused from cleaning up the table before looking at you, confusion evident in his eyes despite his face unchanging.

"O—other men touched me..y—you probably don't want a woman like me a—anymore. I mean, I wouldn't as well.." You coarsed out as tears began to fall from your eyes as you look down in shame. You couldn't look at him in the eyes, you were so ashamed of yourself, hell even disgusted. You felt so dirty as you could still feel those men's hands all over you, tongues licking your neck, fabric tearing away from your skin. It made you feel ill.

Suddenly your face was gently pulled up letting you make eye contact with a pair of dark brown eyes that was in a fixed scowl but if you looked closely, it softened the moment you both made eye contact.

Sergei didn't know how to comfort you as growing up, all he knew was violence. But he did the only thing he knew he could do.

He kissed you.

"I'll make their hands disappear and make you remember mine, instead."