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norikuna · 3 days ago

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PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE ! ★ gojo satoru

prologue ⋆ ★ your boyfriend, gojo satoru, told you that he was gonna' stay behind in japan, he had to go to work and all — he's a high school teacher, you see. so what's he doing sneaking behind the red carpet, looking all suspiciously rumpled and mussed? oh hell no.

pairing ⋆ ★ gojo satoru x reader genre tags & warnings ⋆ ★ afab!reader, jujutsu canon, celebrity!reader, misunderstandings and mild angst, reader doesn't know about jujutsu, makeup séx, máting préss, cérvix kissing, brééding kink :D

word count ⋆ ★ 5.7k! a/n ⋆ ★ because i've always wanted gojo to be on the red carpet...yasss watched the grammys <3 smth silly, short and sweet i whipped up 😁

THE HOTTEST STAR OF THE YEAR RUSHES FROM RED CARPET, WHY? STAY TUNED FOR MORE.

saint laurent heels beat staccato taps into the worn brick, graff crystals dangling from your adorned wrist as you shove your brightly lit phone into your boyfriend's face, "what the hell, satoru?" the offending headline glaring right back at him from your screen.

gojo, for his part, just shoves his hands into his navy slacks, rolling his shoulders back in that deliciously snug ice-blue cotton dress shirt, sleeves pushed up to reveal thick forearms dusted with pale hair. you curse how your gaze dips, resolve cracking, and glossy lips pursed.

strange, how he he looks nothing short of absolutely roughed up, soft fabric crumpled, and sunglasses tilted askew. white hair mussed as though someone took to running their hands through snowy locks, huh.

"hi, baby. happy to see me?"

oh, he's trying to be charming. cute. gojo's grinning, lips parting over sharp teeth, acting as though he totally hadn't been lurking behind rows of insistent paparazzi practically hurdling themselves around the red carpet stairs.

and despite better judgement and little regard for desperate tabloids springing up, you'd pushed past security, past cries of your name, to chase after your boyfriend, who had just texted you an hour ago at most. about how work was going so great.

"you better have a really, really good explanation for this."

to his credit, gojo has the decent sense to look mildly ashamed. pale blue eyes narrow beneath tinted lenses, and he's faintly chewing on the inside of his cheek, "d'you want the long version or the short version? because you gotta' believe me, baby, hear me out –"

something's buzzing, faintly pulsing to the beat of not like us, it's gojo's phone. and he's fumbling through the deep pockets of his slacks. you furiously snap your eyes away from how well they fit, that's so not the point right now, ugh!

"your side chick, hmm?"

gojo looks vaguely offended, rolling his eyes skywards as he unlocks his phone, "hey, we got some attitude today, pretty. why's that?"

you cross your arms over oscar de la renta, sheer panels stitched to mimic stained glass, bless your stylist, truly. "we got some attitude 'cause my boyfriend told me he was busy with work, and had to teach class. dropped me off at the airport, even."

gojo sighs, teeth kissing his tongue as he clicks, "i am working, believe me. and — oh."

you crunch your heel into the gravel, loose stones that line this back passage behind the carpet and the theatre, "what's oh? 'toru?"

"promise not to get mad?" gojo's murmuring, tilting his dim phone screen around. it's a screenshot of a headline, barely a minute old. the photo? you, here, right now. wagging a stern finger at gojo, who's throwing his hands up in disbelief.

STAR FLEES RED CARPET TO RENDEZVOUS WITH MYSTERY MAN? BOYFRIEND, OR SOMETHING MORE?

the tagline follows, some blithe words about how you're prioritising a man in the shadows, over a shining career? over a golden gramophone clutched in your hand, lights sparkling your name on stage. you hiss at the ridiculous amount of shares and comments already, "oh, come on."

"we're so screwed, baby," gojo sighs, rubbing his temple, swiping away at a quick notification from stoic lookin' blonde who doesn't even crack a smile in his profile photo, kento? huh, you've never met a kento.

you sigh, feeling the headache oncoming at the mere thought of your manager furiously scouring the theatre for you, "we?"

gojo scowls, shoving his phone away, "hey, i have people to answer to as well. last thing i need is a public image."

what an odd sentiment, you privately wonder. gojo is wealthy, stupidly so. you're certain of that. something about old money, his family stretches back generations on some beautiful estate. but he's a high school teacher. you've seen him grade quizzes, seen blurry photos of students in dark jackets and neatly pressed uniforms. a private school on the outskirts of tokyo, sure, but public image?

"since when do high school teachers care about their pr?"

gojo flexes his hands, and your eyes drop. slender fingers that you know like the back of your own hand, fingers you've traced absentmindedly when he's sprawled across your couch, fingers that have curled into the dip of your waist in the quiet hours of the night. long, pale, too elegant for someone as brash as him, tensing now as though he's bracing for impact. he's hesitating, weird, because gojo satoru never hesitates.

well, maybe once. the first time he asked you out, flushed and nigh tripping over himself, looking so damn adorable that you had stomped your loubitons, and said 'yes' just so you could kiss him.

"i need to tell you something, baby."

something cold slides down your spine, and it has nothing to do with the evening chill. the air shifts, thickens, pressing against your skin in a way that makes your pulse gallop. you swallow, tongue suddenly heavy in your mouth at how gojo looks unsettled.

that's what gets you. he's never like this. not even that one time months ago when you caught him unwrapping white bandages from his eyes, headache, he had muttered, fingers gripping some torn, stained bundle of purple and green silk. he had crashed out on your cosmos couch minutes later, surly and morose for the days that followed.

your mind races. his family, it has to be his family. the old-money, aristocratic gojo family, the family that he's never introduced you too. they probably think actresses and pop stars are meant to be ogled at from afar, hardly worthy material to bring home to the estate. your stomach churns, for is that why he showed up here, rumpled and tense, instead of waiting until you got home? is this it, ending things?

your heart's hammering, and you hate this, hate it so bad. how how much you want to cling to him, to stop whatever he's about to say from slipping past his candy-pink lips.

"i'm a sorcerer."

there's a sharp, stabbing pain right behind your eyes.

and you're blinking, slowly, mind whirring. then you laugh, loud. sharp, and far too high-pitched, "god, this is why i love you. you're funny, 'toru. i can't believe you actually had me worried and shit, like –"

"i'm being serious, baby." and that's the thing, isn't it? he seems so, like he believes every word coming out of his mouth. his hands, big and warm, close around yours, and there's something in the way that he clasps you, as though he's pleading, and it makes you freeze.

"swear i would never string you along in something like this," gojo murmurs, "i know it's a lot, but seriously, you can ask me anything. anything, and i'll try to answer. and i wasn't ever sure how i was gonna' tell you, but promise i was waiting for the right time and –"

your boyfriend, bless his beautiful face and questionable judgement, and golden heart, has lost his goddamn mind.

your fingers tighten around his, feeling the scrape of faint callouses and scars, "okay, c'mon. now this is getting a little weird."

"you don't believe me?" and gojo looks, god, he looks devastated. long, white lashes fluttering against icy eyes, earnest in a way that makes your stomach twist.

"babe, you said sorcerer right? like...magic? big pointy hats, and all that shit?"

gojo just nods, a faint flush colouring his cheeks, "jujutsu sorcerer. it's real, like, y'know shoko? remember when we met her at that bar downtown, we went to school together. she can back me up, or –, or, i can take you to the school, or introduce you to –"

"okay, okay!" you pull your hands away, feeling your breath hitch as your pulse pounds in your ears, "satoru, stop. seriously. i don't know what you're trying to do here, but it's really startin' to freak me out."

gojo's jaw tightens, the beautiful and haunting lines of his face hardening. something raw, and something sharp flickers through his eyes, "you think i'm fuckin' with you?" there's something brittle in the low control of his tone, "you think i'd joke about this?

you throw your hands up, bejewelled bvlgari sliding down your digits, "yes, satoru! you joke about everything, sometimes." your heart is erratic now, bile sitting in the back of your throat, "what the fuck are you even sayin', like, magic? that you really want me to believe that you're a wizard?"

"not a wizard, sorcerer."

"oh, my bad," you bite out, lips snapping around disbelieving words, "that just makes so much more sense."

gojo's eyes flare, and he's pressing a thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his defined nose, as though he can feel another one of his migraines creeping up, "god, can you just, — can you just listen to me for once?"

"listen to you?" you laugh, but it's far more of a disbelieving scoff, "listen to yourself, please. satoru, we're halfway across the world right now. i could put my career, my entire future, on hold because i really do love you. and now you're telling me that you — what? fight demons in your free time?"

"curses," gojo mutters, rolling big, blue eyes, as though it makes much of a difference to you.

"oh my god."

gojo's looking at you as though he doesn't even recognise you, like he expected something different, as though you're the one making this hard. his throat is bobbing, adam's apple shifting, and you can see his hands pinch at his sides, "knew you wouldn't believe me," he's muttering, shaking his head of tousled, white hair, "this was jus' stupid, no wonder i never tried this whole time."

"they why do it now?" you throw the words at him, suddenly furious and hurting, because you don't understand why he's pulling this on you, now. "why? like, go on, show me something, then, 'toru! or otherwise this is some insane, insane shit, i can't even – i don't know what you want me to do."

gojo's mouth opens, and then closes. his shoulders droop just slightly, and for a moment, just a brief and flickering moment, he looks far more tired than his twenty-eight years. but a split second passes, and he's exhaling, just stepping back.

"forget it," gojo snaps, voice clipped, "this was a mistake. i got real shit to do, talk to y'afterwards." he's turning, stalking off and pulling his sunglasses away from his face (he rarely does that), as though you're the one that's let him down.

what the fuck? the tell-tale click of a camera rings your ears, followed by a bright flash. great. you need a drink, stat.

you shouldn't do this. you know you shouldn't do this. and yet, here you are, gripping at gojo's sleek phone, left with you when he disappeared to fuck knows where.

your fingers twitch around the case, like you should just chuck it across the hotel suite and be done with this whole thing. but you don't, you just sit there. the silence pressing in too thick, your manager's tired voice still rattling in your skull.

yes. you have a boyfriend. yes, he showed up tonight. yes, you still love him, even if he's lost his marbles.

you keep that last part to yourself, thumb hesitating over your own phone, resisting the urge to doom scroll your way into some clarity. as though your snark reddit thread is going to have some answers for this mess.

the oscar de la renta is long gone, carefully pried off and zipped away into a smooth, dark bag — leaving you in a slinky ysl number, straight from their summer runway, drumming your fingers along the bejewelled hem as diamonds still glint at your ears. and gojo? nowhere to be found.

you exhale sharply, rolling his phone between your palms before pressing the screen to life. you shouldn't, you never do this. in two years, you've never once felt the need to snoop, nor pry, to check if he was lyin' about anything, because he never gave you a reason to.

but here you are, thumbing in the passcode anyway. it's your birthday, fuck. of course it is. you're staring at the unlocked screen, suddenly still, what the hell are you even looking for? if this was some elaborate joke, some ruse, what would you find? some notes app plan to send you spiralling? but it was the way that gojo satoru had looked, as though he had truly been hurt, and it hadn't seem false at all.

your thumb hesitates, tapping onto the messages. skimming past familiar names, shoko (right, yep), that kento, and something from an okkotsu with a smiling emoticon next to it. your stomach churns at the intrusion, but your curiosity (and desire to break free of the doghouse) presses harder. you press at a read bubble.

yaga we think it's a special grade. could possess a domain. gojo exorcised it. 👍

you're peering at the timestamp, thirty mere minutes before you had torn away from the red carpet, demanding to know why the hell he looked as though he lost the fight with an angry gnome, as though he'd wrestled a ghost in the back alley.

your mouth goes bone dry, 'exorcised.' this clearly isn't a joke, it's far too intricate, too deeply woven into gojo's life for it to be some elaborate prank. you feel vaguely ill, swiping through emails, some from a guy named ijichi, reports full of the kind of gory details you'd expect from a crime documentary. terms like domain expansion, cursed energy and a special grade blur together as you flip onto your side, heels still dangling off the bed, skirt hem riding up.

then, by pure accident, you tap into his camera roll. oh, there's so much of you. soft candid shots, like you laughing into a martini. you, asleep in the passenger seat of his car, caught mid-bite into a croissant that time he took you to paris. a dumb, fond smile tugs at your sparkling lips despite yourself, but then you swipe and —

a video. you press play, praying to the heavens above that there's no mortal punishment for being a nosy ass.

gojo, in that sleek, grey suit that you so adore. he seems to be at some restaurant, on a cruise ship, perhaps? demolishing a banana split with the kind of enthusiasm that most men reserve for their wedding night.

next to him, a pale and dark-haired boy is watching in resigned horror, while the bleary, unfocused lens swivels to a group of more, unfamiliar teenagers. they're all dressed in some form of black-tie wear, rambling about completed missions and gojo-sensei.

sensei, you frown, feeling a thick lump in your throat. they must be his students, the ones from his classes, and the way they're talking to him, laughing and giggling? he's so, so loved. fuck, what had you been missing?

the camera lingers on a girl with a sharp sway of auburn hair, propped with her elbows on the table, in a frilly black dress. there's a pink-haired kid nudging her as she snaps her fingers, something glinting on the table.

nails, like those you'd see at some hardware store. nails that move, without her even touching them once. your stomach twists, and you rewind. once. twice. ten times. watching, staring, trying to catch at how the metal swivels without even brushed against.

sorcery. gojo had said to your face, and you had scoffed. tch', you snap the phone shut and shove it on the soft sheets, something ugly clawing at your throat. nausea, guilt. some form of shame, and exasperation with the man you love for not telling you this earlier.

you fiddle with the diamond hanging from your ear, forlornly glancing at the heavy door, for you want gojo. to say that you're sorry, to say that you're furious he didn't explain this better, to say that you love him, that you want him to be alright, that you need him, that you want —

slam!

the door swings open, no keycard, and no knock. and you near damn jump out of your skin, a rush of heat and cold spiking through you all at once. crawling over your bare arms, legs still glossed and smoothed underneath your little dress.

gojo. gojo, standing there, looking undone. ruffled, and heaving as he drinks the sight of you in. those ever-present sunglasses, those tinted shades that he so favours are gone. and when his eyes flick up to you, you suck in a breath so sharp that it scrapes at your throat.

they glow, electric blue, almost too vibrant to be real, like something pulled straight out of a vivid imagination.

"satoru," you manage, voice pattering away at how his head snaps up at the sound of your voice, catching the way his lips part, something frayed and desperate twisting his expression. the fine cotton of his shirt is streaked with red, and there's a smear of that same crimson shade reaching up his left cheek, stretching up to his ear. like a painter who got impatient with a brush.

"baby," gojo exhales, voice thick, as though he's been holding this in all night, moving towards you, steady, "i shoulda' told you, told you more. need you to believe me, but –"

you press a manicured finger against his lips, "i believe you. satoru, i really do. i'm so sorry, i had no idea and — wait, whose blood is this?"

gojo shudders under your touch, just the slightest tremour, eyes blown wide, "not who," lashes fluttering lower, leaning against you, "what. and it doesn't matter much now."

your boyfriend's searching your face, looking for something, something more intimate, desparate in your expression. his brows pulled together, and mouth parting into a soft oh! when he sees a mirror reflection of his own want.

and then, he's kissing you, and you're kissing him. whining desperately into the press of his lips, suddenly hot for the urge to pull your legs right against that thick bulge that jostles at your thigh. to lean more into the wandering hands that tug at the hem of season ysl.

you're gasping, not protesting as thick hands pull at your thighs. laying you flat against the bed, the finest suite that this hotel has to offer. away from prying eyes, and nosy reporters hoping to catch the who's who of your bedmates. or rather, the singular love of your life.

gojo's chuckling at your expression, "don't worry, baby. won't ruin yer' pretty dress," lips curled into a slow smile, burning a determined path down the arch of your neck, past the low dip of your neckline over your breasts, "want me, baby? wan' this?"

"so bad," you murmur, just giggling as gojo groans, pulling you up so you're splayed out for him, balanced across his thighs. the very tip of your heels digging into his back as you cross your legs to pull him closer, "m'boyfriend's so hot."

gojo whines into your chest, laving blossoming bruises over the skin that you know will give the makeup artists a field day, and it's obvious how needy he is. thick curve of his bulge pressing right up against your core, rutting his hips for some friction as he showers you in attention, worshipping your form. lips coming back to press into yours, laving at your mouth.

"hah, 'toru!" you yelp, adjusting the silky, beaded neckline, "easy on the d-dress. fuck, can't explain that to my s-stylist when you –" you're mewling, your words getting lost in the heat of gojo's panting mouth.

"what'dya take me for, baby?" gojo hums, slick strands clinging to his dewy lips, running broad hands over your waist, "but i gotta' show my girl," and here, he's patting lower over your hips, "some lovin', and some care, heh."

gojo truly fears he may be obsessed with you, just as much as the rest of the world is. but he, well, he's the only one who gets to see you like this, the flesh of your thighs splayed out underneath the hem that's ridden up of that gorgeous number you've got on. throwing your head back for him, just him.

he's sighing, prettily, tapping at your cheek with loving fingers, "can fuck ya' here, right? gonna' do it so good, show y'some other things you've been missin' out on."

you tilt your head, "you already fuck me that good, 'toru." feeling him groan, racking his bulge up against you once more, "never made me miss out on a, hah, a d-damn thing."

gojo looks ravenous, eyes still wide, white lashes framing the pools of vibrant, electric blue, "told ya' about jujutsu, didn't i?" pressing a filthy kiss to your lips once more, "well, heh, just you wait. can use it for plentyyy other things, baby."

your dress is being pushed up, the soft fabric giving little resistance as gojo presses the rough pads of his fingers into your hips. haute couture giving way for gojo to touch as much of you as he can.

"baby," he's whining, jaw slack as he slides a finger over the crevice of your thighs, "prettiest fuckin' thing i've ever seen. love you so bad, it hurts. it really, really does." and how could you not love him back, gojo who's peering at you with dilated, adoring eyes?

"just gonna, yeah, put ya' down there. don't gotta' do much, just lay there, pretty." gojo's pressing you down slowly, gently. further into the mattress, as he slots himself right at the apex of your thighs. slapping at your fingers when you reach for the straps of your heels, "don't," he whines, petulant, "it looks hot. might hafta' get you another pair," bestowing another sweet kiss upon your waiting, swollen lips when you scoff.

"satoru," you purr, carding your polished nails over the man's scalp, threading your fingers through soft, white strands. relishing in how his throat bobs, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling, "said you had some jujutsu, that's the word, right? something to show me? well?"

whatever paper thin resolve had been holding gojo satoru cracks, snapping away as gojo's eyes harden, hand pulling at the bands of your thin, sheer panties. ones clearly meant to flirt, and tease.

the lace waistband gives way with a gutting, sopping tear. and gojo's grinning, wide so sharp canines poke out from underneath cherry lips, rolling the ball of torn fabric up and tucking them away into his pockets, snickering as though he's won his prize, "s-soaked, already?"

you fight the furious blush that colours your cheeks when gojo whistles, low and impressed, laying himself flat on his stomach so your heels are swinging over his shoulders, resting against his back, as he takes in the brazen sight of your swollen folds throbbing, "pretty pussy's always so wet for me, heh." watching clear slick gather from your mound to your entrance, sliding his index finger along your slit, "wanna' taste you, baby."

you know there's little else on this earth that brings as much pleasure as gojo's eager mouth, the way he becomes truly ravenous when he's in between your legs — thighs hooked over his frame. how he always knows the right spots to press his mouth to, where to flatten his tongue against your slick. but now? right now, you want him in you. mouth lolling at the idea of his thick inches stuffin' you so, so full.

gojo latches onto your silence, resting his soft head of white hair against your thigh, batting long lashes up at you from underneath his lidded gaze, "or does my pretty girl want somethin' else, mhm?" the corners of his soft, pink lips quirking upwards in the ghost of a knowing smile.

it's hard to form a decent response when his slender middle finger is teasing over your glimmering slit, making you keen at the slick pop! of your arousal ringing in your ears, "s-satoru! think you, hahh, know what i want, please."

you're not above begging, certainly not when gojo's grinning, as pleased as the cat who got the cream. looming up to unbuckle his fine, leather belt, and hissing when his own hand provides just enough fiction to make his ears blush a hot, deep crimson.

you never, ever grow tired of this sight. the pale flush on gojo's neck trailing down, down further past sinous muscle and soft flesh. past the curl of white hairs on his groin, and to the long, thick curve of his cock that already looks as though it's throbbing.

"wait a sec', baby," gojo breathes, two gentle fingers pushing past your dripping folds to gather some of the translucent slick pooling onto the sheets beneath you. the wet smack! of his hand pumping your arousal over his cock like some lubricant, and the way he's releasing a sharp, serpentine sound at how filthy it all is.

he's teasing you, and it makes you groan. makes you writhe on the bed, desperately hoping that he has some form of mercy on you, bucking your cunt against his rounded, leaking tip that's sliding through your folds, "gonna' show ya' exactly how i hit bullseye each time, baby."

there's that luminous blue light, pulsing from gojo's irises (that you swear have reformed into feral, little hearts). it's a shade of blue so intense, it seems as though he's been carved from the sky itself.

"f-fuck," you whine, feeling the first inch of his thick shaft nudging past your swollen, aching folds, "hngh, 'toru, fuck, 's big." whimpering from the sheer pleasure as gojo chuckles, his warm palms resting on your thighs to swing your legs over his shoulders once more. pressing down into the meanest mating press that you can imagine.

glorious, hot inches rummaging past your gummy walls, exploring every crevice as you're certain his weeping tip must already be kissing that sensitive spot at your cervix, "babe, satoru, fillin' me so good already."

the nasty, acute angle at which he's got you folded is something out of your most lustful dreams, ones where gojo's panting just like he is now, already babbling, "always s'perfect for me, perfect fit, love you baby," that low rumble in gojo's chest quivering as he litters droopy kisses over your cheek, your neck and down your collarbone.

that purr falling from gojo's glossy lips getting louder with each surefire hit that he delivers against your sweet, rough spot, and had you been in a more coherent state, you would have been marvelling at how instantly your boyfriend had managed to hit the bullseye he promised, and you hear him faintly laugh, "called six eyes, baby. gonna' show you allll the ways i can use it, heh."

not able to stop the whimper when you feel the sticky smack of skin against your ass, slamming into you over and over again, "y'got two eyes, though?"

a damn near sob when he begins rolling his hips so sluttily, so he can truly swab at you with the most pleasurable sensation, laughing so pretty with a faint dimple creasing the corner of his mouth, "tch', so much to teach ya', baby. don't worry, we'll cover everything."

"hah, 'toru, satoru, babe," you squeal, the very tips of your manicured nails placing little perfect pricks onto the nape of gojo's flushed neck, "fuckin' me so damn' good." and you know how much your boyfriend likes to be praised, for he's flushing even more, whining as you lock your ankles in the air.

and the pace that he keeps up is nothing short of inhuman, tacking his groin against your sloppy clit until there's tears of relief pooling on your lashes. and it's not like you've ever been left dissatisfied with gojo satoru around, for from the very first night, he's been an expert at leaving you bleary eyed, and hazy with little cupid arrows dancing around your head.

but to be aware of all this, well, it's something different. there's that raw, searing blue gaze that you've never caught before, sending waves of raw pleasure down your spine.

each raspy groan drawn out of gojo is punctuated with the thick slap of his cock against your inner walls, that filthy mess of his pre and your arousal puddling beneath your hips and thighs so, so deliciously.

as though he's committing every inch of you to memory, his girthy shaft bullying fat inches, battering your guts with the most tingly, mind-numbing kisses ever, and he seems to be sipping at your lips, downing his favourite taste (or second favourite, he may claim with a cheeky grin). kissing at your neck, beneath the weight of diamonds that glitter at your flushed ears.

you're trying to shift under the weight pushing you down, parting your thighs to create more space so you can gasp, "h-here, 'toru, please. 'm so close, wanna' cum with you."

and how could gojo satoru not want to propose to you right then and there? visions running through his head, all of you. you, his wife, his love, and the idea of, fuck, little bundles with his white hair cradled in your arms. visions that he's heard you talk about fondly before. already dreaming of that opulent diamond band he saw in that window store front of some luxury flagship store.

and gojo doesn't even realise he's getting caught up in that lovesick haze. nimble fingers rolling over the hood of your throbbing clit, tight circles being traced over the sensitive bud. and how he relishes the sound of your wanton moans falling against his ear, you have to finish, he needs to see it.

six eyes kicking up into overdrive as he angles his aching cock just so, that ghostly, cobalt light finding the exact spot in your pretty, perfect cunt to make you whine and squeal, and gojo feels as though he may have just seen the pearly gates when you quiver, shaking in his hold as you release crashes down on you. you, you, you. falling apart so prettily for him, lashes fluttering shut as you squeeze your eyes, and there's that gorgeous glow that he so loves to admire.

"hah, ah, 'toru!" you dig into his back, feeling up the open dress shirt still hanging from him, "s-sensitive, babe. so, s-soo good, mmph!" moaning at the feeling of gojo bursting, filling you with thick ropes of pearly release, throbbing right at your very core. laughing fondly as he kisses you through his own release, gasping and groaning into your mouth, "baby, fuck, baby, love you sooo much." clearly reluctant to even pull out of you, but enamoured by the sight of viscous, creamy cum leaking of you, practically adoring the filthy sight.

"tsk', i got sloppy with my aim, pretty," gojo hisses, "didn't put it all in ya', wanna try again?"

you're tucked against gojo's chest, cheek pressed to that expensive cologne that always lingers on him. spicy, clean, with that faint undercurrent of something sweet. his hand is in your hair, raking through it, and he's laughing, laughing as he smooths down your dress, all so fond and unbothered as you scowl.

for you know that tomorrow, everyone's gonna' be demanding answers as to why that brand new little ysl looks as though you crawled through a hedge backwards. black silk all wrinkled, straps coming loose at your shoulders.

speaking of answers...

"satoru?" you murmur, lacing your fingers with his, and gojo just hums in acknowledge, slow and lazy as you sigh, "do you have a kid?"

your boyfriend's freezing, and you feel him stiffen beneath you as he pulls back to stare at you, "what — like a kid kid? like a mini-me?" pink, kiss-stung lips parted as he's blinking, as though he's missing to whatever you've caught on.

"yeah," you mumble, suddenly feeling a lil' silly about it, "i was just, y'know, looking at your phone. swear i wasn't being nosy on purpose, just wanted to see all that sorcerer shit you were talkin' about. and i think i saw something, like a legal doc' with a kid under your name." tapping your chin in thought, "ugh, what was it again? megumi?"

gojo's features shift, that flicker of 'oh shit' that makes you backtrack, "i don't mind, by the way," you blurt, hands up, "not mad or anythin', just, like, wanted to know. since you were tellin' me everything about you, and if you have like a secret child, or two –"

a beat, and then gojo laughs. you can feel the vibrations of the deep rumbles in his chest, that ridiculous cackle that makes your ribs shake against his chest. thick arms locking you tighter against him as he grins, "oh, baby," he's purring, "it's a long story. see, i met this fella' once, toji zenin, this was wayy back when i was in school, and he killed me –"

"what the fuck?"

"i have a lotta' stories like this, don't worry. i'll tell ya' whatever you wanna' know, hah."

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo #gojo x you #daphworks

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cressidagrey · 3 days ago

Text

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 1

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes:

Mention of epilepsy and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

The smell of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries filled the cozy café, the kind of place that hummed with quiet conversations and the occasional clatter of ceramic cups. Lizzie sat in the corner, tucked into her usual spot by the window, her mind was elsewhere.

The Laptop was open, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, but the words…the words refused to come.

Instead, she sipped at her now lukewarm tea, absentmindedly, running her fingers through Mara’s soft fur. Mara’s chocolate coloured head was resting on Lizzie’s knee, watching her, her tail rhythmically thumping against the floor.

They often came here..nearly every day, to be exact.

Elizabeth Treshton’s life was built around her routine after all.

She knew the exact number of steps from her apartment to the cozy coffee shop on the corner. She knew the best seat—by the window, tucked away, where Mara could curl up at her feet while she wrote. And she knew the barista always had her order memorized: earl grey tea with a dash of milk, one sugar, and a small bowl of water for Mara.

They knew them both. They knew not to bother Mara while working, even when it looked like the dog wasn’t working. She was.

Mara told Lizzie when her body once again decided that having seizures was something it should do and then stayed with her through the whole…shitty ordeal that were said epileptic seizures.

Still, they thrived on their usual routine. And they hadn’t been able to have that for weeks, because Lizzie had been busy with all the publicity surrounding An Autumn of Flames and Stone and the fact that her little book had reached No. 1 of the New York Times Bestselling list.

Which meant…that she now got to write the last book in the Seasons of Fate Series…Something that she never thought she would get to do.

This had been her dream since she was a child…and now…now she finally got to do this. This was her job! Her dream job!

And if this chapter was finally going to start going her way, then maybe Lizzie would be feeling like she actually knew what she was doing too.

Just at that moment, Mara suddenly lifted her head, ears alert and then stood. Lizzie’s pulse spiked. She waited with baited breath for Mara to tell her that another seizure was incoming, even when Lizzie couldn’t feel anything yet.

“Mara?” Lizzie murmured, feeling her stomach knot.

Her service dog didn’t react to her voice. Instead, Mara’s attention was locked on something—or someone—across the café.

Lizzie turned just in time to see Mara move.

Straight toward a guy at the counter.

“Mara, heel!” Lizzie called, already pushing back her chair, heart pounding.

But Mara wasn’t listening.

Mara always listened. Lizzie had not once been in this situation.

Mara was always well behaved. Mara had been trained so well that this was nothing Lizzie had ever needed to worry about…but apparently that day Mara had decided that her time as picture-perfect seizure dog was over and instead she would run across the cafe, straight to random guy…

The guy turned just as Mara reached him. He was tall, wearing a hoodie pulled up over messy brown curls, and he looked as confused as Lizzie felt when Mara pressed her nose against his hand.

“Oh,” he said, blinking down at her. “Uh. Hi?”

Lizzie practically skidded to a stop beside them. “I’m so sorry—she doesn’t normally—”

And then she got a proper look at him.

Her brain stuttered.

Because that wasn’t just any guy in a hoodie.

That was Lando Norris.

Formula 1 driver. Twitch streamer. Walking, talking social media chaos generator.

She knew who he was. Of course, she bloody knew who he was.

They were literally in Woking. A stone thrown away from the McLaren Technology Center.

And even if Lizzie hadn’t grown up seemingly right next to the headquarters of a Formula 1 racing team, she still would have grown up as the daughter of a man that believed that Formula 1 was just as important on Sundays as church services were.

Her dad was the original F1 fan and Lizzie had easily inherited his love for the sport.

So to say that she was…a little bit starstruck, because there was Lando freaking Norris standing in front of her, holding a coffee cup in one hand, a half-eaten croissant in the other, looking between Lizzie and Mara with increasing confusion, was an understatement

“So, uh.” Lando tilted his head. “What’s happening?”

Lizzie swallowed hard, her mind racing. “She’s a service dog,” she managed, her voice tight. “She only does that when—”

Mara insistently pushed her nose against Lando’s hand again. When he didn’t react she started to headbutt his thigh aggressively.

The realization slammed into Lizzie with the force of a freight train. Mara had alerted to him.

Lando still looked baffled, shifting slightly like he wasn’t sure what to do. “Is—uh—is she okay?”

Lizzie swallowed hard. “I—I think she’s actually asking you that.”

His brow furrowed, then a flicker of something passed over his face. A split-second of realization. “Oh.”

Lizzie watched as Lando’s hand curled slightly, his fingers flexing like he was suddenly hyper-aware of his own body.

“Do you feel off?” she asked, voice softer now. “Lightheaded? Dizzy? Aura?”

His lips parted like he wanted to argue—but then he hesitated. “I mean… I was feeling a bit weird this morning.”

Mara let out another small whine, nosing at his wrist.

Lizzie exhaled sharply. “You need to sit down.”

“I’m fine—”

“Sit. Down. And drink some water, for god’s sake.”

He blinked at her in mild shock, but something in her tone must’ve struck him because he moved, letting her guide him to an empty table.

Lizzie crouched next to him, all business now. “Do you have any underlying medical issues? Mara was trained to alert to my Epilepsy. Have you ever had a seizure?!”

Lando shook his head. “No, nothing like that. But—” He ran a hand through his hair. “I do get migraines sometimes. And sometimes before I get one, things feel… off.”

Oh.

Lizzie sat back on her heels. “Then she probably picked up on that.”

Lando looked down at Mara, who had now settled next to him, still watching carefully.

“Is this—normal?” he asked.

“For her, yeah.” Lizzie scratched the back of her neck. “She’s trained to detect seizures, but she picks up on other stuff too. She’s never alerted to someone else before, though.”

Lando let out a short laugh, like he wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or concerned. “Huh. Well, I’m still here, so I think I’m good,” he finally said and Lizzie exhaled.

“Sorry, about that,” she apologised. “She has never done that before.”

Lando grinned, slow and teasing. “Guess I’m just special, huh?” he teased.

A pause. Then, hesitantly, Lando reached down, fingers brushing Mara’s head.

“Thanks, I guess,” he murmured. Mara’s tail gave a small, reassuring wag.

“So, like… I am not dying, right?” Lando asked her suddenly, and Lizzie let out a nervous laugh, shaking her head.

“No. But she’s never wrong about this kind of thing.” Lizzie sighed. “Drink some water. Eat something. Just—don’t ignore it.”

Lando hummed. “Noted.” Then he tilted his head, studying her. “And you are?”

She blinked. “What?”

His smile widened. “Your name. And her name too.”

Lizzie felt warmth creep up her neck.

She bit her lip.

“I am Lizzie. That’s Mara.”

Lando grinned, like he was committing both names to memory. “Lizzie and Mara. Got it.”

Lizzie wasn’t sure why her stomach flipped at the way he said her name, but she pushed the feeling aside. “And you’re Lando,” she said, more to ground herself than anything else.

His grin widened. “So you do know who I am.”

Lizzie scoffed. “I live in Woking. I’d have to be actively avoiding the internet to not know who you are.”

Lando let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Fair point.” He glanced down at Mara, who had finally relaxed, still keeping a watchful eye on him. “So… does this mean I have, like, a cool dog guardian angel now?”

Lizzie rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Only if you promise not to ignore your body when it’s telling you something’s wrong.”

He hummed, tapping his fingers against the table. “Noted.”

The café felt warmer than it had before as they looked at each other. Lizzie, still crouched next to Lando and Mara. The air between them felt charged, and Lizzie was suddenly reminded of a fact she had never forgotten: Lando Norris was unfairly attractive.

"So...are you here often or was today my lucky day?"

She blinked at him, caught slightly off guard by the question. “I—uh. Yeah. I’m here most days.”

Lando nodded like that was exactly the answer he was hoping for. “Cool. I might have to come by more often then.”

Lizzie raised an eyebrow. “Because of the coffee? Or because of the dog that just diagnosed you?”

He smirked. “Both. And maybe because the company’s not bad either.”

She stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out if he was actually flirting or just naturally charming. Either way, it was… a lot.

Lando hesitated, then scratched the back of his neck. “Look, this might be weird, but—can I give you my number?”

Lizzie’s brain stalled. “What?”

His grin turned a little sheepish. “I mean, you know, in case Mara ever wants to check in on me again. Or, uh, if you ever want to.”

Lizzie exhaled a laugh, shaking her head. “That was smooth.”

“I try,” he said, dimples on full display.

Lizzie couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips, part amused and part baffled at the whole situation. She had gone from sitting in her usual spot, writing away in her notebook as Mara dozed by her feet to now crouching next to a Formula 1 driver giving her his number. What sort of alternate universe was this?

She hesitated, but then Mara nudged her hand, like she was making the decision for her. Lizzie huffed, pulled out her phone, and slid it across the table. “Fine. But if you start texting me memes at 2 AM, I’m blocking you.”

Lando chuckled, tapping in his number before handing it back. “No promises.”

Lizzie glanced down at the contact name he’d put in: Lando ‘Not Dying (Yet)’ Norris.

She sighed. “You’re impossible.”

Lando shot her a cheeky grin as he got to his feet. “It’s part of the charm.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes, the smile stubbornly clinging to her face. It only widened when Lando bent down to say a quick goodbye to Mara, who promptly licked his hand in response.

Lizzie shook her head, but she couldn’t quite fight back her smile. “Come on, Mara. Let’s go before you decide to start diagnosing other random strangers too.”

As she walked away, Lando called after her, voice warm with amusement. “See you around, Lizzie.”

She didn’t look back—but her stupid smile stayed all the way home.

***

The morning air was crisp, the kind of early autumn chill that made your breath curl in the air but wasn’t quite cold enough for a proper coat. The park was quiet, save for the occasional jogger or dog walker, the golden sunlight filtering through the trees.

Lando arrived a few minutes early—not that he was eager or anything. He just… didn’t want to be late. Which was not the same as being eager.

He shifted on his feet, hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie. He wasn’t nervous. Not really. Okay, maybe a little.

It wasn’t a date. Not officially. Just a walk. With a girl. A very cute girl. Who had a dog that might have magical powers if yesterday was anything to go by.

He heard her before he saw her—the sound of Mara’s paws on the pavement, the soft jingle of her collar. Then—

“Morning,” Lizzie said, smiling as she approached. She had a bright red scarf wrapped around her neck, her dark hair pulled up into a messy bun, and Mara trotted happily at her side.

Lando tried not to notice how good she looked or how her smile lit up her face. He was cool. He was casual. He wasn’t a blushing teenager getting flustered over a girl.

He failed utterly.

Lando exhaled, grinning back. “Hey. You actually showed up.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in her expression. Mara padded over and sniffed at Lando’s hand, her tail wagging excitedly.

“As if you weren’t expecting me to,” she said, eyes glittering with humor. “Did you really think I’d ditch you?”

Yes. Yes, he had.

“I dunno. Maybe you’d wake up and realize agreeing to go on a walk with a random guy from a coffee shop was a terrible idea.”

Lizzie laughed, the sound surprisingly musical. “It probably was. But you’ve got Mara’s seal of approval, so you can’t be too dangerous, right?”

She glanced down at Mara, who panted happily up at Lando, as if in agreement.

"Can I touch her?" he asked carefully. "I should have asked yesterday, I am sorry." He may had spent too much time yesterday reading up on Service Dogs. And what exactly they did for their handlers, especially if they had handlers that had epilepsy like Lizzie had.

Lizzie smiled, her expression softening. “It’s okay. I know it’s not exactly common knowledge.” She nodded. “You can touch her. She’s off-duty right now, so you’re good.”

Lando crouched down, holding a hand out, allowing Mara to sniff him. When she didn’t shrink away, he cautiously patted her on the head. Her fur was silky-smooth to the touch.

"Hello Mara," he greeted her. "I even brought Peanut Butter for my saviour.”

He probably shouldn't have said that. At the sound of these two words Mara suddenly perked up, immediately sat down before Lando’s feet.

“You shouldn’t say the magic words unless you plan to give some to her right at that exact moment,” Lizzie said drily.

Lando laughed in surprise, looking down at Mara as she sat there, looking up at him expectantly. “She is serious about peanut butter, huh?”

He pulled the jar out of his pocket, unscrewing the cap before holding it out for Mara to sniff. She stuck her nose in it, tail wagging furiously.

“I think she approves,” he said, watching as Mara licked at the peanut butter.

Only after she had been allowed to stick her snout in there for a full 5 seconds was Mara ready to continue their walk.

“So, how’s the head?” Lizzie asked, tilting her head toward him.

“Better. I took something last night before it got too bad and slept it off.” He glanced down at Mara. “Not sure I would’ve done that if someone hadn’t warned me.”

Lizzie hummed. “She’s good at her job. Even when she has never alerted to somebody else before.”

Lando tried not to let that go straight to his ego. Tried.

Lando tried to sound casual as he spoke, but couldn’t quite hold back a hint of satisfaction. "I guess that means I’m extra special, then?"

Lizzie raised an eyebrow at that, but there was a laugh in her eyes. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

He chuckled, shoving his hands back in his pockets. “Yeah, too late for that.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, just walking together, the sound of the leaves crunching under their feet and Mara’s paws filling the air.

“So, what do you do, exactly?” Lando asked, trying to shift the conversation somewhere less awkward. Though he was pretty sure that the abrupt topic change was not gonna help at all.

Lizzie smirked. “You mean besides walk dogs?” she joked.

“Yeah. You know, because you know what I do” He gestured at himself dramatically, trying to be playful. “It’s not fair that you are the big mystery.”

Lizzie laughed and shoook her head. “It’s not fair,” she agreed. “I write books.”

Lando blinked. “What kind of books?” he asked, his curiousity piqued.

“Romantasy,” Lizzie answered, watching him closely, waiting for a reaction.

What?

Lando frowned. “Like… romance and fantasy?” Was that a thing?

“Exactly.”

“Is that, like, dragons? Or is it—”

“Faes,” Lizzie supplied. “And magic, and epic love stories, and usually some kind of dramatic war.”

Lando’s eyes widened as she talked, the concept of 'romantasy' sinking in. “Wow. So, like… magic powers and romance and all that good stuff?”

Lizzie nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Pretty much. And there’s always a bit of adventure thrown in for good measure.”

Lando thought for a moment, picturing tales of epic battles and star-crossed lovers. It sounded…. Nice.

“You write those books that people fight over on the internet, don’t you?” he asked. Because he was pretty sure he had seen things about Morally grey love interests and a enemies-to-lovers arc and people fighting with other people about which fictional man was hotter.

Lizzie’s smile widened, her eyes glittering with humour. “Guilty as charged. I write the books that people have passionate debates over online. The ones where people are way too invested in the love triangle and have very strong opinions about which fictional man is hotter.”

His brows shot up. “Wait—are you, like, famous?”

She shrugged. “Depends on who you ask.”

Lando narrowed his eyes, then pulled out his phone and started typing.

Lizzie swatted at his arm. “Are you Googling me?”

“Uh, yeah?”

"What are you evening googling? Lizzie Romantasy?" she asked him with a snort. "You probably won't find me. Try Elizabeth Treshton."

The results for 'Elizabeth Treshton' appeared on the screen, and he scrolled through for a moment, articles and book covers, reviews and interviews popping up.

A moment later he got his answer.

"You sold millions of books."

Lando stared at Lizzie with a mixture of incredulity and awe. "I think that counts as famous."

Lizzie shrugged. “And yet, my dog still expects me to carry her up the stairs when she’s being lazy.”

Mara wagged her tail like she agreed.

Lando laughs, shaking his head. “I have a feeling Mara has you wrapped around her paw.”

She hummed in agreement, her hand going to the end of Mara's leash as the dog stopped to sniff at a tree.

“I swear, she knows exactly how cute she is and uses it to her advantage.”

Lando slipped his phone back into his pocket, shaking his head. “That’s actually really cool. How’d you get into it?”

Lizzie hesitated, then exhaled. “I have epilepsy. Had a lot of seizures when I was younger, which meant a lot of time in hospitals. You get really bored after a while.” She snorted. “So, I kept busy. Told myself stories, read, learned to crochet. But writing stuck. Studied English lit at uni, got a publishing deal right after. I was really lucky.”

Lando nodded. “That’s kinda sick, actually. You get to make stuff up for a living.”

Lizzie chuckled. “Yeah. I guess you could say that.” She glanced at him. “What about you? What’s it like, racing cars all day?”

He grinned. “Honestly? A lot more boring than you’d think.”

Lizzie raised an eyebrow. “You drive 300 kilometers an hour for a living.”

“Yeah, but I also stare at spreadsheets for hours. It’s not all fast cars and cheering crowds.”

“I mean, if you didn’t look at data, I think there would be bigger problems,” Lizzie said, teasing.

He rolled his eyes. “I do look at it, I promise.”

“So, how’d you end up doing that?”

“My mum tried to get me into horses—wasn’t into it. But I wanted to drive. Did quad biking, motorcycle riding… then my dad took me to a kart race, and that was it.”

“That’s sweet. My dad and I have watched F1 together since I was a kid," Lizzie said with a grin.

Lando glanced at her. “Really? That’s awesome. So, are you, like, one of those people who actually knows what’s going on during a race?”

Lizzie grinned. “You’re just mad because I probably know more than you.”

“Impossible,” Lando said, acting affronted. “I drive the car, I know what I’m doing.”

Lizzie raised an eyebrow. “Do you, though?”

He gaped at her. “I can’t believe you just questioned my driving skills.”

She just laughed. “I can’t drive at all, you know.”

“I can teach you,” he offered immediately.

She laughed. “I am legally not allowed to get behind the wheel,” Lizzie told him drily. “Epilepsy, you know. If I get a seizure while driving, I would accidentally murder people,”

“That sucks,” Lando said quietly.

“It’s just one of those things you get used to. You get used to not having control over that part of your life.”

Lando felt a pang of sympathy. “That must be tough.”

Lizzie shrugged. “It is, sometimes. But Mara’s a huge help. And I get by.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Lando said, glancing down at the dog, who was happily leading the way once again.

Lizzie smiled. “She’s the best. And it’s not all bad. Gives me more time to write, at least.”

Lando grinned. “I’m definitely interested in reading some of your work now.”

She laughed. “You are aware that they are all like 500 pages, right?”

Lando groaned dramatically. “You’re telling me you’ve published multiple million-selling books, and they’re all doorstoppers?”

"I am a wordy person, you know," Lizzie shot back.

Lando groaned again, but he smiled, too. “You’re making me work for it here.”

Lizzie just shrugged, her mouth curving into a smirk. “You’re just going to have to deal with it.”

” Lando grinned, already planning his next move. “Alright, super important question,” he said, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pocket.

Lizzie raised a brow. “Oh?”

“Who’s your favorite F1 driver?”

She let out a soft laugh. “You really want to know?”

Lando nodded, deadly serious. “This is crucial information. Make or break.”

She laughed, a strand of dark chocolate brown hair escaping her bun.

“My dad is a die hard Ferrari fan,” she told him. “Seriously. Like you know that quote that there are only two religions in Italy, Catholicism and Ferrari? That’s pretty much my dad,” she said with a shake of her heard. “So for him it was always Schumacher…

As they strolled through the park, Mara trotting ahead with her nose to the ground, Lando shot Lizzie a sideways glance.

Lizzie hummed, drawing out the suspense. “When I was little, I loved Kimi Raikkonen.”

Lando groaned. “Kimi? Seriously?!?”

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “You asked! I was, like, ten. You weren’t even in F1 yet.”

“Still hurts,” Lando muttered. “Alright, fine. What about now? Who’s your current favorite?”

Lizzie smirked. “Are you asking because you want me to say you?”

He feigned innocence. “Noooo… but also, yes.”

She pretended to consider. “Well, I do appreciate drivers with great car control and a smooth racing style.”

Lando’s grin stretched wide. “That does sound familiar—”

“Which is why I love watching Lewis.”

Lando gasped, scandalized. “Lizzie, what the hell?”

She laughed. “What? He’s a seven-time world champion! You can’t be mad at me for that.”

“I can definitely be mad at you for that.” He shook his head in mock disappointment. “I thought we had something special.”

Lizzie smirked. “Would it make you feel better if I said you’re my favorite driver I’ve ever gone on a walk with?”

Lando narrowed his eyes at her, fighting a smile. “Barely.”

***

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inkdrinkerworld · 3 days ago

Note

In response to your post,

Thinking about poly!marauders and how they’d know you’re having a bad day before you can even say it because they know you better than you probably know yourself.

Unless you’re the type of person that likes to talk about it, they won’t even say anything, just pamper you.

James would 100% make a last minute grocery trip so he could cook your favorite meal.

Sirius would cuddle you all night long and always be touching you in some way to provide comfort.

And Remus would draw a relaxing bath that’s equivalent to being at a spa.

I’m thinking lots of tender kisses to the forehead, soft voices, and the sweetest declarations of love and care.

If you decide to talk about it they will be the most attentive listeners. Sirius would 100% be engaged, responding with gasps, coos, groans, and angry declarations of beating someone up if they’ve hurt you. Remus would be quiet until you’re done talking and then drop the most earth shattering wisdom or the most comforting words ever. And James would be providing all sorts of physical support- rubbing your back, holding your hand, pushing hair away from your face, pulling you onto his lap, etc.

By the end of the day you’d totally forget about the bad day you’ve had.

Manifesting this for you love, and I hope you feel better soon<3

James has you in his lap with your stuffed bear loosely in your hold as you cry into his thigh.

“Hey, ease up a bit in the tears poppet. You’re gonna make yourself sick.”

Sirius strokes your hair as Remus brings in a bowl of your favourite for dinner.

“It’s all over now, hm? You’re home and we’ve made your favourite for tea and Remmy will give you one of his amazing massages before bed.”

Remus nods when you look up with teary but hopeful eyes.

“Course I will, but you’ve got to eat something first.”

You nod, your bear clutched tight in your hold as you sit up. “Thank you guys,”

Sirius tuts, kissing your sticky cheeks just before Remus passes you the bowl of warm dinner.

“It’s nothing, baby,” he levels you with a look when you go to argue. “What do you say we look at ‘Christopher Robin,’ hm?”

You perk a little, “Really?”

James chuckles, arms a little tighter around you as Remus and Sirius shuffle about on the sofa to sit beside you both. “Yes really, angel.”

By the time you’re a third of the way through the movie, Remus is already giving your legs a massage and you’re basically asleep on James’ lap.

It doesn’t stop his hand from coasting up and down your back or his lips from pressing into your temple.

“Reckon I could make her breakfast in the morning, something special.” He murmurs to Remus, Sirius is already falling asleep on James’ other thigh with his fingers tangled in your hair.

“That’d be sweet Jamie, what’re you thinking?”

James looks down at you, upset by your bad day but pleased he and your other boyfriends have helped.

“Maybe crepes, haven’t made them in a bit. Could start the batter tonight and everything.”

Remus presses a kiss to his lips with a fond smile. “You’re sweet, she’ll love that.”

James is all flushed but knows that Remus is right- you will love it. “Dunno how I’ll slip out from under them but the second I’ve figured that part out I’ll get it started.”

Remus chuckles softly, softening when you stir a little. “Sleep sleep, love.”

#remuslupin #remus lupin x reader #jamespotter #james potter x reader #siriusblack #sirius black x reader #poly!marauders fanfic #poly!marauders #poly!marauders blurb #poly!marauders fanfiction #poly!marauders x y/n #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders fic #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders drabble

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crazycat010 · 3 days ago

Text

Watch where you're going idiot!

Hi! This is one of my first times posting and English is not my first language, but I hope you like it!

bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

IN WHICH: an unfortunate series of events leads to you befriending the infamous Bakugou Katsuki.

fluff, a teensy bit of angst, comical reader (could also be seen as Gender Neutral reader though there's talk about longish hair and only one reference to breasts)

word count: 1,993 words

To say you were mad was an understatement. Oh no, you were absolutely, utterly furious, and you were this close 🤏to showing your best friend, or what you at least thought Ibara Shiozaki was until this precise morning, what your quirk was capable of.

It was a seemingly normal Tuesday; as usual, you woke up five minutes before your alarm was supposed to go off, went on a morning run around campus and took a shower.

A gentle breeze had eased you through the half an hour run, putting your mind at ease and helping you relax even more than your routine usually did.

Coming back to your shared dorm, you had noticed something was off upon realizing your roommate and best friend Ibara was already up and going, dressing herself while suspiciously turning her back on you, when you always had to wake her up at last so you both could show up to class in time after the ordinary rush to whichever classroom you had been assigned to.

Shrugging it off, you quickly got undressed and into the small shower of your shared bathroom. Oblivious to your roommates prank, you didn’t realize, as you poured your shampoo in your left hand’s palm with your eyes closed, while humming along to a song that had particularly been stuck in your head, that said product’s color had drastically changed from a milky white to a deep fucsia.

It had been a total shocker to you, when, upon getting out of the shower and in front of the big rectangular mirror that stood inches above the sink, you saw your pitch black mid-back length straight hair, turned to a ridiculous pink color.

It’s not that you didn’t like pink, but nor did you love it, and it wasn’t in your Today’s Plans to get your fabulous healthy hair such a radical change in appearance.

With fiery eyes and filled with rage at inhuman levels, you dried your hair, realizing the tint wasn’t made to be washed out easily, and then put on your clean training suit, for today’s lesson was going to be the first one in which your class, 1st B, would have encountered the other section of heroes, 1st A and it mostly would’ve consisted in getting to know the others and only a couple of tests.

Right after locking your dorm, not fancying another prank from your classmates, you sped up the halls directed to the cafeteria, knowing exactly who the culprit was.

There started to be more and more students wandering off in the corridors. Nonetheless, all of those who even dared to look at you, backed away, terrorized and utterly terrified by your gaze and fuming state.

However, there was one of them who wouldn’t get easily scared, determined to put you back in place, yelling a: “Hey, watch where you’re going, idiot!” After you had so not-gracefully bumped into him and muttered through gritted teeth an unapologetic sorry, maintaining your pace the same as how you’d left the dorm.

Caught in your steps, you stopped moving, almost as a marble statue. Slowly, you turned your head to face the student who had also fixed his harsh gaze.

As you locked eyes, tension settled in the corridor and students started to watch cautiously but curiously your interaction, like you were two predators about to engage in a fight to earn a prey.

Your unmoving and irritated gaze met his with matching intensity and indignation, and for what felt minutes, you just stood there, analyzing each other and waiting for the other to make the first move.

You didn’t recognize him, but you were sure you had already seen him, perhaps in the halls.

He had spiked white hair and dark crimson eyes that you somehow felt you couldn’t glance away from. He was wearing the same suit as you, so he must’ve been one of the many hotheads from class 1A. Underneath the white and blue suit, you could easily take a look at his perfectly sculpted muscles.He didn’t exactly look like the kind of person you can forget ever meeting with.

Each word filled with rage and pausing after each of them, carefully evaluating what to say, you said: “What did you just say?”

Taking his time, he venomously spat back: “I said, watch where you’re going, idiot.”

You both stared at each other for what felt like ages, but were interrupted by a redhead with thin eyebrows and sharp features, much like the blondie, who chirped happily, unfazed by the tension between you two: “Hey Bakubro. Finally I found you! C’mon, we gotta make it to class in time for the morning assembly before meeting the kids from class 1B!”

Dragging him by the arm, the redhead got the blondie out of the sticky situation, tagging along those who I thought were the rest of they’re classmates.

Inside the cafeteria, the daily chaos made it hard for you to search your prankster, so you decided to grab one of the many pastries and head to your classroom, as you were already running late for your assembly.

In the classroom, you found all your classmates already seated while your homeroom teacher, Sekijiro Kan, was going through today’s events.

Apologising for being late, you headed to your usual seat in the back of the classroom. Thankfully, your friends had noticed not only your change in appearance, but also your switch of demeanor, and didn’t dare point each of them out, scared for their own lives.

After Sekijiro finished listing what you were going to do and resorting to maintain an appropriate behavior, you all lined up and went outside to the track field, where the other class had already arrived.

While walking, you made sure to keep an eye on Ibara and eventually caught up with her. Feeling your presence, she offered a sly smile, readying herself for a scolding with the capital S.

“What the hell did you think you were doing!” You hissed at her.

“Geez, sorry! Calm down, I didn’t think you’d take it that bad.” She said in response.

“Didn’t think I’d take it THAT bad! Are you out of your freaking mind? You knew we had the meet up with class 1A today!” You spat back, gaining unwanted attention from those around you.

“I repeat, we are to maintain an adequate behavior and not make ourselves known in a negative way, am I right, miss Y/LN?” Scolded you your professor.

“I apologize professor. I won’t be caught off guard again.” You pronounced in an assertive term.

“And miss Shiozaki?” Added the professor.

“Y-Yeah same.” Ibara was quick to tag along, facing the floor in a desperate attempt not to laugh at her devilish making.

Finally, you reached the other class and soon the professors started by introducing themselves. However, it was mostly your professor Sekijiro Kan who did the talking while Shota Aizawa kept nodding absent-mindedly.

After going through the day’s activities (again?! C’mon man, it was like the third time this morning, even the walls had understood what we were going to do!), the professors guided you through the training fields, making mixed teams of four that were going to compete against each other in the tests.

You were teamed up with your classmate Neito Monoma (thanks to Ibara’s luck you two hadn’t been teamed up together and you wouldn’t get the chance to strangle her once the professors were far away enough) and two guys from class 1B named Minoru Mineta and Denki kaminari.

You were actually happy to be with Monoma, other than being pretty handsome, he was one of the most intelligent and kind souls you had ever met and you often hung out with him whenever you weren’t with your usual group, consisting of Ibara Shiozaki also known as Vine, Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu AKA Real Steel and Juno Honenuki AKA Mudman.

Even though he could be rather mocking, loud, and sarcastic with Class 1-A and provocative in battle, he was also able to keep calm at difficult times. All in all, he was one of your most reliable classmates and his Copy Quirk had turned out to be very useful in battle.

Although you were kinda sad you hadn’t ended up with another girl, this Denki, who had an electricity based Quirk as he had told you, seemed a pretty chill and easygoing dude.

Now the major problem was the other guy, Mineta. He was tiny, resembling a kid, but boy was he a perv! Like, goodness gracious, ever since you all had teamed up together he hadn’t stopped staring at your breasts making you feel rather annoyed and repulsed and getting on your nerves.

While your team decided which strategies you were going to use, you found yourself staring at a certain blondie. Having calmed down, you were starting to feel sorry for how you’d reacted that morning (nonetheless, he was still kind of an asshole. I mean, he’s the one who started it after all!) and morally obliged to apologize.

You had obviously kept concentrated throughout all the events, yet in the back of your mind a small voice kept remembering you you needed to apologize to a certain someone. So after you had completed the morning program and were headed to the cafeteria to have lunch (together?! 1st A and 1st B together, eating in peace?! Were your professors out of their flipping minds?!), you looked around and then quite literally ran after the blondie to catch up with him.

Seeing as he wasn’t talking to anybody in particular and had basically isolated himself from the rest of the group, you took that as a sign and started straight up talking to him before he could’ve even noticed your presence (to be honest, you were a small bit afraid he wouldn’t have wanted to listen to you and would’ve just gotten away without giving you the possibility or redeeming yourself).

“Heyy, soooo…I think we started off on the wrong foot…Name’s Y/N” You said, sticking out your hand to him as he turned to face you, his face blank and emotionless as ever.

He scoffed, unmoved by your apology yet not able to take his eyes off your figure, curious of the vibrant pink tint that marked your hair in a not-elegant but still attractive way.

“C’mon man, I’m trying to be nice!” You whined, dropping your shoulders in an overly dramatical and childish way, trying to get him to break character.

As he took another glance at you, you noticed how his frown had turned in an attempt to hide the growing smile that you were firm would adorn his masculine features in a sexily adorable way.

“Ha, I knew I’d be able to get a smile out of you, mister Grumpy” You said in a mocking but light-hearted way, throwing your arm over his shoulder while trying to lock eyes with him. He tried in vain to hide himself from you, unable to hide the smile that spread on his cheeks and scoffing in a friendly manner, playfully shoving you, to which you dramatically fell onto the ground, speaking with a hoarse tone to imitate those overly dramatical scenes from the movies Ibara made you watch over and over. “Tell m-my parents…” You gasped dramatically, pausing in between sentence: “T-Tell them I l-loved them” Closing your eyes and sticking out your tongue in a laughable attempt to play dead.

Soon enough, he sticked his hand out for you to grab, pulling you up with a fairly decent amount of strength and then sticking his hand out to actually shake yours for once.

“Name’s Bakugo, weirdo.” He said, locking yet again eyes with yours with a smirk on his face.

Oh how you knew it was going to be the start of a wonderful friendship…or maybe even more?…

Thank you for reading. I hope you liked it. You're welcome to come check out my account and my other posts and/or make requests :) Do NOT plagiarize this or any of my content.

Do you think I should make a part 2?

Love you guys! See you soon!😘

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha bakugou #mha x reader #mha #my hero acedamia #bakugo x female reader #thank you

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keeryhours · 2 days ago

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real love, baby - chapter three

Billy Hargrove x female! reader

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Billy Hargrove Masterlist

Summary:

You have your appointment to see the baby for the first time

Warnings:

Pregnancy, shitty parents, bullying

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N:

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter! and thank you @punkrockmlchael and @the-witty-pen-name for all your help with this one 😩🙏🏻

8 weeks pregnant

Baby is the size of a raspberry

“Can you see a difference?”

You stood in front of your mirror, shirt held up under your chest to reveal your stomach. Eddie lounged back on your bed, watching you.

“I still don’t see anything,” Eddie said. “You sure there’s something in there?”

“We’ll know for sure tomorrow,” you reminded him. Your heart sped up in your chest at the thought of your first ultrasound, the thought of seeing your baby for the first time. Eddie would be taking you so you didn’t have to go alone.

“Are you excited?”

“Super excited,” you smiled. You rubbed your hand over your stomach, still nothing there. “I’m a little excited to have a bump, but also dreading it.”

“There’s no hiding from it then,” he said, hanging upside down off the side of your bed. His curls brushed against the carpet. “You ready for that?”

“No,” you admitted. “I mean, everyone at school already knows. But I’m not prepared to tell my parents.”

“I don’t blame you. That’s not going to go well.”

“Thanks,” you said sarcastically. You pulled your shirt back down, flopping down on the bed next to Eddie. “But I know. They’re going to kill me.”

“That’s probably putting it lightly,” Eddie said, sitting up to look at you. “They’re going to freak.”

“That’s why I’m waiting as long as possible to tell them.” You leaned against the headboard, feet stuck in Eddie’s lap. “Good plan or bad plan?”

“Totally foolproof, nothing can go wrong,” Eddie said. He gave you a teasing smile- you and he both knew telling your parents at any point would be a disaster, but you also knew Eddie would be there for you no matter what. “Have you talked to Billy anymore?”

“Not since 2 weeks ago when he cornered me about the abortion,” you sighed. It felt like all you did anymore was think about Billy. “He’s back to pretending I don’t exist.

“That’s so fucked,” Eddie said. He rubbed your bare legs that lay splayed across his lap. “I’m sorry. I mean, I can’t say I’m surprised, but still. He’s an ass.”

“No, I know,” you said, sinking down the bed until you were laying on your pillows. You pulled one over and hugged it across your chest. “I walked right into this one.”

“A little bit.”

You kicked Eddie, making him laugh. “You’re always so supportive and helpful and not at all judgmental, Ed.”

“Hey, I try to be,” Eddie said, laughing. At least you could laugh about it.

The next day after school, you rushed out of the building quickly. Your appointment was 30 minutes after school ended and you did not want to be late. You found Eddie waiting by the van already, keys in hand and ready to go.

“You ready, mama?” He asked as you both climbed into the van, and you gave him a look.

“Yes, I’m ready,” you said, taking a deep breath. The truth was, you were horribly nervous. You felt like you could be sick, and it was hard to breathe deeply.

“You’re going to be okay, you know that?” Eddie said, reaching over to grasp your hand with his right one. He drove the van one handed, the short drive to the doctor’s office feeling like a million years.

“I know,” you said, giving Eddie a weak smile although you didn’t quite believe yourself.

He pulled into the parking lot of the office, killing the engine of the van and turning to you. “Do you want me to go back with you?”

“Would you?” You looked at him hopefully, not wanting to go alone. You wouldn’t blame him if he felt weird about it and didn’t want to go, but you hated the idea of doing any of this pregnancy alone.

“Of course I will,” he said, squeezing your hand. “C’mon, let’s go. I got you.”

The waiting room of this doctor’s office was more cheerful than the last one. The walls were painted a bright yellow color, and there were photos of babies decorating the walls. A TV hung on one side of the room, playing a rerun of Three’s Company.

When the nurse called your name, Eddie followed you to the back. She smiled politely at you, holding the clipboard against her blue scrubs and leading you back to the exam room.

“You can change into this gown and take a seat on the exam table,” she said. “Dad, you can take one of the chairs over there.”

“Oh, I’m not-“ Eddie started to correct her, but the nurse wasn’t listening, already moving on to grabbing the blood pressure cuff.

Eddie didn’t entirely mind playing dad for the day. It was no different than the times you’d lied to his extended family that you were dating, right? He knew he wasn’t the father, but it was interesting to see what it would feel like.

The nurse went through the usual things - blood pressure, temperature, weight. She left the room when she was done, leaving you and Eddie alone in the room.

“Eddie, cut that out!” You hissed as Eddie looked through the cabinets and drawers.

“What? They wouldn’t just leave it here if they didn’t want us to take it,” Eddie said, pocketing a handful of band aids.

A few minutes later the tech walked in, greeting you both before sitting in front of the ultrasound machine. Eddie moved his chair closer to you as she put the gel on your stomach and began the examination, the screen turned away from you.

“Is…everything okay?” Eddie asked nervously, speaking the words you were too afraid to say yourself.

“Everything looks good,” she said with a kind smile. She turned the screen, and there was…a little bean shaped thing. “This is your baby. You’re measuring exactly 8 weeks.”

Your eyes went wide, taking in the sight of the little wiggling baby. It didn’t look anything like a baby yet, but you still felt unimaginably connected to it. It was a bizarre feeling. That was your baby.

“At least it’s not twins,” Eddie joked, but you were barely listening.

In that moment you felt an acute awareness of Billy’s absence. Despite the fact that Billy hadn’t had anything to do with this pregnancy and had even insisted on an abortion, you hadn’t thought much about what he was missing out on. But this? You couldn’t help but picture the blonde beside you in Eddie’s place, getting that first glimpse of his child. How he’d place his hand on your belly to feel, or maybe even talk to the baby through your belly, play them his favorite music. Every time this happened, you pictured Billy as a good father.

But he wasn’t here.

The tech clicked something on the machine, and a rhythmic whooshing sound filled the room. “That’s the heartbeat,” she said. “A strong one!”

That filled you with pride- your baby was strong. It felt good to hear. You had been worried that things weren’t going well, one of the reasons you’d been dreading this appointment so badly. You didn’t know what you would do if something happened to the baby at this point.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Eddie asked.

The tech didn’t make him feel stupid for the question. “It’s still too early to tell. What do you think?”

“I think it’s a girl,” Eddie said confidently. “I just have a feeling.”

“I think it could be a boy,” you said, but you really didn’t know or mind either way. You could picture yourself with a son or a daughter. Billy would-

And there you go daydreaming again.

“Would you like some prints?” The tech asked as she wrapped up the exam, wiping the gel off your stomach. You nodded quickly - these were the first ever photos of your baby. You would have to hide them, but you wanted them. She gave you multiple copies, in case you wanted to share.

You walked out of the office feeling better than you had coming in, ultrasound photos gripped in your hand. There was no hiding from it now - there was a baby, alive and growing in your belly. Eddie kept one of the photos, claiming he was entitled to one as the godfather, a title he had awarded himself.

You were grateful for him, he had been an amazing friend to you before and during this. You had worried that he’d want nothing to do with it, that he’d be mad at you for getting yourself into this position to begin with. But he hadn’t given you any kind of judgement, only support.

If only you and Eddie loved each other as more than friends, if the rumors around school about you had been true, things might be simpler.

Theoretically, Eddie was the perfect guy for you. Best friends who never got tired of each other, same interests, attracted to each other. But you couldn’t help who you were and weren’t in love with, and you just didn’t feel that type of way about Eddie.

Yet here he was, willing to be judged alongside you without saying a single word about the truth. He was just willing to let the whole school call him names and think that he is the father of this baby, willing to walk beside you in front of the judgemental people of Hawkins. Ready to face your parents, who already hated him, when the time came just so you didn’t have to tell them the father wouldn’t be in the picture.

You didn’t understand it. But that was just Eddie.

The next day at school, you passed Billy a note in 2nd period.

“Can we talk?”

You watched as he opened the note, eyes darting up to you as he gave you an unreadable expression before folding the note back up. You weren’t sure what kind of answer that was.

After class he nodded at you to follow him into the empty science classroom, and you obeyed. Things always were on Billy’s terms.

“What?” He hissed once safely inside the locked classroom. He leaned against one of the tables. “Did you change your mind?”

“No, Billy, I didn’t change my mind.”

“Then why are you talking to me?” He asked simply.

His words stung deeply, but you didn’t dwell on them for long. “I had my first appointment yesterday. I thought you might want to know.”

You didn’t know how he was going to respond to that. Billy was always so unpredictable. He looked at you, his eyes roaming your figure. “Is it…was…everything okay?”

That was better than him blowing up. “They said everything was looking great. I’m 8 weeks and they have a strong heartbeat.”

Billy huffs something like a small laugh. Like yeah, it’s my baby, of course they’re strong. “Well that’s….good.”

You smiled softly. “Do you…want to see a picture?”

“They gave you pictures?” He asked with his brows raised. “I’ve never even seen a baby that small.”

You laughed - “It looks more like a little bean right now, but-“ you dug through your bag until you pulled out one of the prints, handing it over to Billy.

Billy took the photo from your fingers gingerly, like he was afraid he’d break something. He held it up to his face with a slight tremble in his hands, seeing the digital text on the photo - Hi mom and dad! - with an arrow pointing to the small blob.

“That’s really it?” He asked, his voice almost incredulous. “That’s the baby?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “Pretty crazy, right?”

Billy just stared at the photo. Eventually he looked up at you, his expression once again unreadable. “Can I keep this?”

“What?” The question caught you off guard.

“The picture? Can I keep it?” Billy repeated.

You did have multiple copies of the sonogram, but you were surprised he wanted one at all. “Yeah, sure,” you finally answered him, feeling like an ass for looking like you had to think about it for so long.

“How are you feeling with…everything?”

That question surprised you, too. “I’m okay. Still feeling sick and all the other usual symptoms. But nothing too bad.”

Billy nodded. It was quiet again. Then, “What do you think it’s gonna be?”

“I think it’s a boy,” you said, smiling softly. “But Eddie’s convinced it’s a girl.”

“Either way would be- wait, Eddie?”

You looked at him. “Yeah. Eddie thinks it’s a girl.”

“Did he…go to the appointment with you?” There was something swirling behind his blue eyes, something you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Yeah,” you said. “I didn’t want to go alone.”

“Oh.”

There was another minute of silence between you, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think Billy was hurt. “You didn’t seem like you wanted to go,” you said finally.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t,” Billy said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes, taking one between his lips. “I’ve got to get back to class.” You watched as he turned in the complete opposite direction and walked out the back door, lighting the cigarette as he left.

Billy’s mind swirled with thoughts as he walked away - that was his baby. His baby. That everyone thought belonged to Eddie. It honestly pissed him off, but it was his own fault and he knew it. He could step out right now and say he was the father, but he wouldn’t do that. He was too much of a coward.

He thought of what his father would say. He couldn’t hide this forever, he knew. It would all come out eventually. Billy dragged on his cigarette as he thought of how Neil would react. And wouldn’t he deserve it? It was his fault you were pregnant and his fault you were doing it alone. Would his dad kick him out? What would happen to you? Would he be able to get a job and help take care of you and the baby?

He was getting ahead of himself again, thinking about the what if’s of letting himself get involved. He couldn’t do that. You and that kid were better off without him. It was bad enough he passed on his genes, but there was no escaping that one now.

But did he really want to be a deadbeat dad? The type of guy who he had no respect for, and now that’s exactly who he was shaping up to be. Is this what he wanted for himself? For his kid?

When he finished the cigarette, he tossed it to the side, then folded the photo carefully and stuck it in his wallet.

Back in class, Billy ignored you again. You almost thought you dreamed the whole encounter, but the missing sonogram in your bag proved it happened. Billy had really acted like he cared. That was totally unlike him.

When Carol and Tina started whispering and giggling at you, that seemed a bit more normal. You just didn’t know what was so interesting this time.

After class they waited for you, popping their bubblegum as they leaned against their desks. “Overheard your Freak boyfriend telling his friends you saw the baby yesterday. How cute,” Carol quipped.

You ignored them, trying to walk by just as Tommy and Billy came up behind them. “What’s going on?” Billy asked.

Carol and Tina looked up at them, malicious grins on their stupid faces. “I just heard the Freaks got to see their baby yesterday. I just wanted to congratulate her.”

Tommy snickered. “How sweet.”

Billy avoided your gaze. “Carol, just leave her alone. It’s not worth it, is it?”

Carol, Tina, and Tommy all gave him a confused look. Because when has he ever cared about making fun of you?

“I just mean,” Billy said, scrambling to recover, “she’s already pregnant in high school. That’s sad enough.”

His friends laughed, and by that point they were moving on to a different conversation. The girls turned and left, Tommy and Billy following behind. You wondered what Tina would think if she knew the truth about her crush.

Eddie dropped you off at home after school, and you were disappointed to see your parents home. You made sure the sonograms were buried deeply in your bag before you got out of the van.

“Are you gonna be alright?” Eddie asked, sensing your anxiety. “D’you want me to come in with you?”

“I think that might make things worse,” you attempted to joke, even though your words were true. Your parents hated Eddie.

“Call me if you need a getaway driver,” he called as you hopped out of the van, and you smiled at him. You caught sight of his copy of the ultrasound photo stuck in his sun visor.

You took a deep breath as you walked up the front steps of the house. As long as you didn’t set them off, this didn’t have to go poorly. You could get upstairs to your room and be left alone all evening.

Your hopes were dashed when you walked inside and your dad immediately called your name. You changed course and walked into the kitchen, finding both your parents standing their looking at you, your mother nursing a glass of wine while your dad held a scotch.

“Honey, your doctor called,” your mom began.

Your blood ran cold. You thought you would be sick on the spot. This could not be happening right now, you were not ready to tell them. But they seemed…oddly calm.

“Oh yeah?” You said, gauging the situation.

“They just said your prescription for Zofran was sent to the pharmacy. Have you been feeling sick?”

You let out a breath. “Oh, yeah, a little. They said it was probably just a stomach bug.”

Your father sipped his scotch. “You’re not going to use this as an excuse to skip school, right?”

“No, sir,” you said. You knew if you didn’t speak to him that way, it would be a whole other world of trouble.

“Good,” he said, “because you want to get into a good school, don’t you? We’ve discussed this.”

“Yes, sir,” you said. Your parents had always made their expectations clear. If you didn’t get into a school they deemed appropriate, they wouldn’t be supporting you any more.

“And I saw that van driving off,” your father added. “I thought we talked about not spending any more time with people like that.”

“People like what?” You asked, knowing better but your anger snapping uncontrollably. “Eddie’s my best friend.”

“The boy sells drugs,” your mother added. “He lives in a….”

“A trailer park?” You finished for her. “Is that what you were about to say?”

“He’s dragging you down,” your father’s voice boomed. “You are too good to be hanging out with his type. Why don’t you go out with the Harrington boy? Now that’s a nice kid, respectable parents-“

“Steve doesn’t even know I exist,” you scoff. “And his friends are dicks.”

“I’m just saying,” your father continued, “you need to keep better company before you’re knocked up and stuck with your choices.”

If only he’d known how cruel his words really were, how deeply they had struck. He would probably be pleased with himself. You turned and ran up the stairs, the tears in your eyes falling whether you wanted them to or not. In the safety of your room you jumped onto your bed, sobbing into your pillows.

What the fuck were you supposed to do?

tag list

@rincallistis @holb32 @missingbillyhargrove @fandom-princess-forevermore @kenmasabg @pinklyred @seedlingghost @swiftieintheupsidedown @strangerthing93 @losingmygrasponreality @jaybbygrl

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mingi-s-dimples · 17 hours ago

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No Safe Haven - Jongho

“You're mine. Utterly, completely, mine.”

pairing: military general!jongho x captured fem!spy

genre: army/military au, 18+, filth, enemies to lovers

summary: you never thought infiltrating in his base would get you utterly destroyed and ruined in his office.. but he made sure to make you scream his name.

wc: 5.4k

warnings: military au, enemies to lovers, mean dom!jongho, bratty!reader, lots of cursing, lots of marking, hair pulling, dacryphilia, wrist restraint, lots of talking back tehehe, fingering with a glove, fingering in general, three rounds in total, desk sex, lip biting, biting, possessiveness, unprotected sex (boo use protection irl) completely consensual, for sure forgot something &&& will edit later.

Author's Note: HELLOOOO GUYSSS it's been a while since I've posted a fic of my own, of my own idea 🫣. I've been super into military attire and stuff these days because for uni I'm going to choose the military general medicine part not the citizen one 🤞 and I got pleeentyyyy of ideas to write just about thinking of the uniforms - ups (I'm a whore for this man I'm so sorry-). Anyways it's pure filth- enjoyy 😋🎀

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way.

The battlefield had been bloody, ruthless. You had done everything you could to keep your cover intact, but in the end,

Jongho had caught you.

You had been sent to infiltrate his ranks, gather intel, and sabotage his forces from within. But the war general, known for his unshakable control and brutal tactics, saw through your deception from the very start. Now, you were his prisoner.

The heavy scent of leather, steel, and smoke filled the war tent where you knelt on the cold stone floor, arms bound behind your back. Your head remained high despite the tight ropes digging into your wrists, despite the oppressive weight of the man standing above you. Jongho hadn’t said a word yet, but his presence was enough to suffocate you.

Boots scraped against the floor as he circled you, slow and methodical, like a lion taking its time with a wounded prey. “I should have you executed,” he mused, voice deep, rich, unwavering. “That is the price of betrayal, after all.”

You forced yourself to hold his gaze. “Then do it.”

His lips curled at your defiance, a smirk that was both amused and completely in control. "No," he murmured, crouching to your level. "Death is a mercy you don’t deserve."

Your breath hitched as he reached out, gloved fingers tracing the side of your face in a touch that was far too gentle, too intimate for an enemy.

“You infiltrated my army,” Jongho continued, his voice barely above a whisper now. “Lied to me. Manipulated my men. And yet… look at you. Still trying to act strong.”

You clenched your jaw, refusing to break under his gaze. But then, his grip shifted—fingers tightening around your chin, forcing your head back until your neck was bared to him. His next words sent a shiver down your spine.

"Let’s see how long that fire lasts, little spy. Because make no mistake…" His lips brushed dangerously close to your ear. "I will enjoy watching you burn."

Your pulse was hammering, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing it. Not when he looked at you like he already owned you.

He was too close—too much, too commanding, too intense. His breath fanned over your lips, his fingers still resting just under your chin, as if he were deciding whether to stroke or break.

You hated how easily he made you react. How his voice settled into your bones, how the weight of his gaze made your stomach tighten. So you did the only thing that made sense.

You spat in his face.

The moment the spit landed, a slow, dangerous silence settled between you.

Jongho didn’t move. Didn’t wipe it away. Didn’t react at all for a long, agonizing moment.

His head tilted as he slowly dragged his tongue across his teeth. His fingers flexed at his sides before he reached up and wiped the spit off his cheek with the back of his glove, watching you like a predator who had just decided to play with its food.

"You're fucking bold, aren't you?"

You barely had time to breathe before his hand shot out and wrapped around your throat.

Not crushing. Not yet. But firm, a warning.

His hand tightened around your throat, firm enough to keep you still, to remind you that he was the one in control here.

You should have been terrified. Any sane person would be. But you weren’t.

Not when his pupils were blown wide, Not when his breath came out ragged and heavy like he was barely holding himself back.

"You just don’t fucking know when to stop, do you?" his hand hovered in the air almost like he'd hit you, but he didn't. He backed off in a second.

Despite the way his dominance wrapped around you like a vice, despite the way his grip sent a heat spiraling through your core, you still smirked.

"You wanted to slap me," you murmured, your voice smooth, taunting. "But you didn’t."

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of something darker in his eyes. Something almost feral.

"You really don’t know who the fuck you’re talking to.”

And then—his grip flexed, not enough to choke, but enough to steal your breath for half a second.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice dropping to something dark and commanding.

"I should throw you to my men," he murmured, his breath scorching against your skin. "Let them deal with you, break you the way traitors deserve."

A shiver rocketed down your spine.

"But you won’t," you breathed. "Because I belong to you, don’t I?"

The words tasted dangerous, but they weren’t a surrender. They were a challenge.

Jongho stilled and chuckled.

"See, that’s the thing," he muttered. His grip on your throat loosened just enough for his thumb to press against your bottom lip. "You talk like you have a choice."

His thumb dragged down, pulling your lip slightly—teasing, testing, owning.

"You think you can keep fighting me?" he scoffed. "That you can keep pretending you’re not fucking shaking for me?"

Your lips parted to spit something back, but you never got the chance.

Because he kissed you. And fuck, it wasn’t just a kiss. It was a war, a claim, a punishment.

His lips crashed onto yours, hot and demanding, swallowing your gasp as his fingers tangled in your hair. Then—he yanked your head back.

A sharp pull, just enough to make you arch into him, just enough to make you fucking feel it.

The kiss was messy, deep, raw. His tongue brushed against yours, then forced its way in, taking, stealing, consuming.

You hated how easily he made you respond. How your body melted into him despite the fire in your veins.

His teeth sank into your lower lip, sharp, punishing, enough to draw a gasp from deep in your throat.

Jongho groaned, deep and wrecked, his dominance dripping from every touch, every movement.

"Fuck," he muttered against your lips, his breath ragged. His fingers tightened in your hair, keeping you close, keeping you right where he wanted you. Then, just as suddenly, he ripped himself away.

Your chest heaved, your lips tingling, swollen, fucking ruined. His forehead pressed to yours, his breathing uneven, heavy.

"I’ve wanted to fucking ruin you since the moment I found out you infiltrated my base."

Your stomach flipped violently. Jongho’s voice was rough, pure gravel, pure torment.

"I should have had you killed." His lips brushed against your jaw, your cheek, your ear. His grip on your hip tightened, pulling you flush against him. "But I didn't."

Your breath came in short, quick bursts.

"Why?" you whispered, and you hated how breathless you sounded.

His smirk was pure sin. "Because I wanted to be the one to break you," he murmured. "Wanted to see you fall apart under me, wanted to hear you fucking beg."

Your nails dug into your palms, the last remnants of your resistance hanging by a thread.

He tilted his head, his nose barely brushing yours. "I hate how much I want you," he murmured. “And I fucking love it at the same time."

The air between you was scorching, suffocating, dangerous.

"Tell me, little spy," he murmured. His lips ghosted over yours, his words dripping in dominance.

"Are you still going to pretend you don’t want this?"

And for the first time… You didn’t have an answer.

The silence between you was thick, suffocating, stretched to its very limit.

Jongho was still so fucking close, his breath ragged, his pupils blown wide, his entire body coiled like a predator ready to strike. Then—he snapped.

With a low, wrecked curse, he yanked you forward, his grip like iron around your wrist. Before you could react, he lifted you up effortlessly, manhandling you like you were nothing, your back colliding with the small desk in the room.

His body followed—towering, overwhelming, consuming. And then, he shoved you back.

One palm wrapped around your throat, the other sliding up your waist, fingers digging in, staking his claim as your spine hit the cold wall behind you.

Jongho’s breathing was wrecked, his expression nothing short of feral.

"You really fucking love pushing me, don’t you?" he muttered, his lips crashing onto yours before you had the chance to respond.

This kiss was pure fucking destruction.

Hot. Messy. Feral.

He wasn’t kissing you—he was taking you.

His tongue pushed in, deep and demanding, licking into your mouth like he had something to prove. Like he wanted to ruin the way you tasted.

He swallowed the gasp you let out when his fingers tightened around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your head spin.

"Fuck," he groaned against your lips, his hips pressing flush against yours, his grip tightening on your waist.

His thumb brushed up, pressing against your jaw, tilting your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

And god—his eyes.

Dark. Wild. Possessive.

"I swear to fucking god," he muttered, his voice low, dripping in dominance, "if you don’t tell me you want this, I’ll stop right now."

You licked your lips, still dazed, still burning from the way he kissed you.

He waited. Just a breath. Just a second. Then—you smirked.

"Stop?" you echoed, your voice syrupy sweet, teasing, testing. “You won’t."

Jongho’s jaw clenched so hard you swore you heard his teeth grind.

His grip on your waist tightened, fingers digging into your flesh, grounding himself.

"You really wanna play this damn game, don’t you?" he murmured, his lips brushing against yours, his breath scorching hot.

You tilted your head, batting your lashes. "I don’t know what you mean, General," you taunted. "I thought you were going to stop."

Something in him snapped at your words. "Fuck," he cursed, low and sharp and fucking wrecked.

Then, he kissed you again—harder, deeper, with even less patience.

His hand slid down from your throat, down your chest, gripping your waist, your thigh, spreading you open for him.

"Tell me you want this," he muttered, his lips dragging down your jaw, your throat, biting, sucking, leaving his mark.

His teeth scraped against your skin, his breath scorching hot against the bruises he left behind.

You inhaled sharply, every inch of you burning, every nerve alight with him.

Then, just to test him one last time, you murmured—so fucking soft, so fucking bratty—

"Make me."

Jongho groaned, deep and wrecked, his hand tightening on your waist like he was seconds away from breaking you completely.

"Oh, you have no fucking idea what you just asked for.”

His lips were relentless. They left no space untouched, trailing down from your mouth to your jaw, then down to your throat—biting, sucking, marking. He wasn’t just kissing you. He was ruining you.

The first sharp bite to your neck ripped a whine from your lips, your head tilting back as pleasure and pain mingled in a dizzying haze.

And just as you sucked in another breath— His hand wrapped around your throat. Not tight. Not yet. Just enough to remind you who the fuck was in control.

"Shut up," he muttered, his grip flexing, silencing the sound still stuck in your throat.

Your nails dug into the edge of the desk, knuckles white, body burning.

His other hand—hot, rough, possessive—slid up your waist, finding the torn fabric of your blouse.

Jongho exhaled sharply at the sight of your black lace bra, his breath coming out heavier, rougher, his restraint hanging by a fucking thread.

"God damn.." he muttered under his breath, his hands splaying over your ribs, thumbs brushing just under your breasts.

Then—his mouth was on you again.

His lips latched onto the swell of your chest, kissing, licking, then—Biting.

The first mark sent a jolt straight between your legs, a soft whimper slipping past your lips before you could stop it.

Jongho groaned against your skin, his hands gripping your waist harder, his desperation slipping through the cracks.

His hat—that goddamn general’s cap he always wore like a crown—finally tumbled off, landing somewhere on the floor.

And god, that sight alone—his dark, tousled hair finally exposed, his head buried against your chest, his body pushing you further into the desk—It was almost too much.

And yet—you couldn’t resist pushing him further. You chuckled, low, teasing, amused by his sheer fucking desperation.

"You’re pathetic," you murmured, your voice dripping in mockery.

Jongho stilled and laughed.

Then, with zero warning, he sank his teeth into the curve of your breast. Not gentle. Not sweet. A punishment.

A small cry tore from your throat, but his hand tightened on your neck, keeping it trapped, keeping it his.

"You think this is funny, huh?" he muttered, his breath scorching against the bruises he left.

You grinned, breathless, wrecked, but still teasing.

"Yeah," you whispered, your lashes fluttering as you met his gaze.

Jongho exhaled sharply, his pupils blown wide, his lips swollen, damp with you.

"God, you just don’t fucking stop," he muttered, his hands tightening on your waist, holding you in place.

"Then maybe," he continued, his lips trailing up your chest, your throat, back to your mouth,

“I should shut you up myself."

You licked your lips, still tasting him, still feeling the way his hands had claimed every inch of you.

And yet—he still hadn’t ruined you. Not completely. So you did what you did best. You pushed him further.

"You keep talking about ruining me," you murmured, tilting your head, voice syrupy sweet, taunting.

Jongho’s fingers twitched on your waist, his jaw clenching.

You smirked. "When are you actually gonna do it?"

He exhaled sharply through his nose, his patience snapping like a thin thread. Then—his hand was on your throat again. Tighter. Unyielding. His grip forced your head back against the wall, your body completely at his mercy.

"You wanna be ruined, huh?" he muttered, his voice low, dripping in danger.

You barely had time to breathe before he pushed forward, pressing his lips to your ear.

"You wanna be destroyed, hm?" he whispered, his voice a promise.

Your breath hitched, your body betraying you before your mind could catch up.

Jongho felt it. He fucking felt it.

"Let's see.. I wanna make you beg," he muttered, his hand sliding lower, his grip on your throat loosening just enough to let you breathe.

His lips dragged down your jaw, back to your throat, biting, licking, marking you deeper.

"I wanna hear you scream my name," he continued, his words scorching hot against your skin.

You sucked in a breath, your nails digging into the edge of the desk as his hands traveled lower, claiming, consuming.

"I wanna make you cry, cry for my mercy" he whispered, his teeth grazing your pulse. “But you won't get any.”

A small sound—something between a moan and a gasp—slipped past your lips.

He groaned, wrecked at the sound of you.

Jongho’s grip on your waist tightened, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

"You really have no idea what you’ve done," he murmured, his gaze burning into yours.

"You really don’t fucking know how long I’ve waited for this."

His fingers dragged along your thigh, teasing, tormenting, pushing you closer to the edge without even touching you properly.

"You don’t get it, do you?" he whispered.

"You’re mine now."

His grip tightened on your jaw, his mouth hovering just above yours.

"And I’m gonna fucking destroy your pretty little pussy.”

He was looong gone.

The moment he yanked off his thick army jacket, revealing the sheer strength beneath—the broad chest, the cut muscles, the battle-worn scars beneath his black shirt—your breath caught in your throat.

And when he reached for your blouse, tearing it away to finally reveal the toned body that came with being a spy, his eyes darkened.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his gaze drinking you in, raw and hungry.

You should have been embarrassed. Should have felt exposed.

But instead? You liked it.

You liked the way his eyes devoured you whole. Liked the way his breath hitched as he took in every inch of you.

And god, his personality? That commanding, ruthless dominance?

It was everything you wanted. Everything you needed.

Maybe it was because of your career, the way you were trained to fight, to defy, to challenge the most dangerous of men.

Or maybe—you just liked men who knew how to fucking take.

Jongho’s fingers moved to your pants, unfastening them with zero hesitation. With one sharp tug, they were gone, pooling at your ankles, leaving you in nothing but your panties.

And that’s when he saw them.

The scars.

Faint. Barely there. Memories of fights, of battles you survived.

Jongho stilled. Not in hesitation. Not in pity. In pure, raw admiration. Then—he lowered himself. Dropped to his knees. And he pressed his lips to the first scar. Then another. And another. Each one kissed, licked, marked.

Your breath shuddered, your head tilting back against the wall, your thighs trembling beneath his hands.

You wanted to touch him.

Wanted to tangle your fingers in his thick, black hair, yank him closer, make him stay there forever. But you couldn’t. Your hands were still tied.

Jongho exhaled sharply against your skin, his hands tightening on your thighs.

"You’re fucking perfect," he muttered, his lips brushing over the inside of your leg, his voice deep, reverent, utterly wrecked.

Then—he lifted his head. And that look?

That ravenous, all-consuming, predatory stare?

It sent a violent shudder through your entire body.

Jongho didn't even bother taking off his gloves.

His breath was ragged, heavy, dripping in hunger as he pushed himself back up, towering over you again.

His gloved fingers—rough, calloused, strong—trailed from your breasts, grazing over your tight, sensitive skin, dragging lower, lower—

Until he reached the soaked fabric of your panties, barely covering what was his.

He exhaled sharply, his hot breath hitting your face as his lips brushed over yours, teasing, taunting.

"You’re dripping," he murmured, his voice a low, filthy rasp.

His fingers pressed against you, teasing the soaked material, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that made your thighs tremble.

You whined, hips twitching.

"Mhm, you want it," he muttered, his tone dark, knowing, dripping in dominance.

He didn’t ask. He knew.

You glared at him, refusing to answer, refusing to give him what he wanted. So, he took it.

With one sharp, impatient tug, your panties were gone—ripped off like they were nothing.

And then—his fingers were on you. Bare, exposed, nowhere to hide.

A choked moan escaped your lips the second his fingers slid through your slick folds, gathering everything you were giving him.

Jongho let out a low, pleased sound, his jaw tightening.

"You’re fucking soaked," he muttered, almost to himself, almost like he was losing control just from feeling how wrecked you already were.

And then—he pushed in.

One finger, thick, gloved, sliding into your cunt with ease, filling you up in ways that made your breath hitch.

You clenched around him instinctively, a sharp moan escaping before you could stop it.

Jongho cursed under his breath.

"Fucking hell," he groaned, his forehead pressing against yours as he shoved in another finger, stretching you open, preparing you.

He didn’t ease you in. Didn’t tease. Didn’t wait. He destroyed. His fingers pounded into you, rough, deep, deliberate. Thrusting. Stretching. Curling just right.

Every drag, every push, every pump had your legs trembling, your breath hitching, your body shaking.

You moaned again, louder, a desperate sound that only spurred him on.

"That’s it," he muttered, his lips grazing your ear, his fingers moving faster, deeper.

"Let me hear you."

His free hand gripped your waist, holding you still as you writhed under his touch, helpless, wrecked, desperate for more.

He thrust his fingers harder, deeper, hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over and over until—

A strangled moan tore from your throat, your body clenching, tightening, shattering.

Jongho groaned, watching as you came undone around his fingers.

"Good fucking girl," he murmured, his lips trailing down your jaw, over your pulse, feeling the rapid thrum of your heartbeat.

And then—he yanked his fingers out, his gloved hand covered in your slick.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he brought them to your lips.

"Open."

Your breath hitched. But you did.

And the second your tongue met the taste of yourself on his fingers, Jongho groaned—deep, guttural, wrecked.

"Fuck," he muttered, his jaw clenching.

Then—his hands were on his belt. Unbuckling. Unzipping. Freeing himself.

"You took my fingers so fucking well," he murmured, his voice a promise, dark and deadly and drenched in filth.

"Now—"

He grabbed your hips, dragging you to the very edge of the desk, lining himself up against your still-twitching entrance.

"Let’s see how well you take my cock."

Jongho didn't waste a second. His hands went to his belt—quick, precise, impatient.

The metal clinked as he unfastened it, and then—his pants dropped, pooling at his ankles, leaving him in nothing but his tight black briefs.

Your breath hitched.You could already see it.

The outline. The size. The sheer thickness. And then—his briefs went next. Fuck. He was big. Thick, long, heavy, the tip leaking with proof of just how much he fucking wanted you. And the look on his face? Ravenous. Starved. Like he was going to eat you alive.

Then—his teeth clenched around his gloves.

One by one, he yanked them off with nothing but his fucking mouth, his sharp canines digging into the fabric, his jaw tightening.

The sight? Sinful. Dangerous. Absolutely lethal. And the second they were off—he grabbed you. Spread your thighs wide open, lined himself up, and—

Slid right the fuck in.

One, brutal, devastating thrust. Every inch. Every single inch, buried deep inside you.

Your back arched off the desk, a broken moan ripping from your lips as he filled you completely, stretching you wide, making you take him.

A deep, low, animalistic sound escaped his chest, his hands gripping your waist so tightly it was borderline bruising.

"Tight as fuck," he hissed, his jaw clenching as he bottomed out, the head of his cock pressing against the very deepest part of you.

You clenched around him—hard. Jongho cursed under his breath. And then, when his gaze flickered to your face—

When he saw the way your lashes fluttered, the way your lips trembled, the way your eyes glazed over with unshed tears from the sheer stretch of him—

His expression darkened. And his cock fucking twitched inside you.

"Look at you," he muttered, his voice husky, sinful, absolutely wrecked.

"You gonna cry for me, sweetheart?"

His thumb wiped away a stray tear that slipped down your cheek.

"Yeah," he murmured, his lips grazing yours, his fingers gripping your thighs.

"You will."

Then—he moved. And ruined you. Hard. Deep. Merciless. His thrusts were brutal. Animalistic. Completely unhinged.

Your body fucking bounced with every snap of his hips, every shove, every relentless drive of his cock inside you.

"Taking it so fucking well," he muttered, his jaw clenched, his nails digging into your skin.

Deep. So deep. So goddamn good.

Your moans turned to whimpers, your whimpers turned to broken cries.

His fingers tightened on your waist, his thrusts turning sharp, rough, pure devastation.

"That’s it," he muttered, his voice a low, dark rasp.

"Fucking take it."

And you did. Every inch. Every thrust. Every ounce of filthy, reckless, dominating pleasure he gave you. You loved it. Fucking loved it.

And Jongho?

He was going to make sure you never forgot it.

Jongho’s grip on your waist tightened—bruising, possessive, unrelenting.

His pace grew harder. Deeper. More powerful.

Each thrust sent you reeling, your body rocking with the sheer force of him, the desk beneath you creaking under the weight of it all.

Then—his hand slid to your back. A sharp tug. A forceful pull. He dragged you closer, forcing you to take him even deeper. A wrecked cry left your lips. You cursed. You whined. You moaned.

Low, deep, almost feral—his voice drenched in raw satisfaction.

"You feel that?" he rasped, his fingers digging into your skin, his breath warm against your ear.

"Every inch of me inside you, just how I’ve fucking wanted—"

His head fell forward, a growl vibrating in his chest. He was close.

And then—his next words sent a full-body shudder down your spine.

"Gonna fill you up, sweetheart," he muttered, his voice hoarse, his thrusts turning erratic, deeper, desperate.

"Gonna fuckin’ ruin you."

And then—he did.

He buried himself deep, filling you up, holding you there, making you take everything he gave you.

You gasped, your body clenching around him, your mind spinning, your breath hitched—

But Jongho wasn’t done. Not even close.

A dark chuckle rumbled from his chest. His fingers brushed up your spine—slow, teasing, dangerous.

Then, in one swift, powerful motion—he flipped you over.

You barely had time to gasp before he dragged you to the edge of the desk, forcing your chest against the cold wood.

And then—his hand wrapped around your face. A firm push.

Your cheek met the surface, your breath hitching as he leaned over you, his weight pressing into your back, keeping you exactly where he wanted.

"Not done with you," he murmured, his tone dangerously low.

"Not even fucking close."

Then— a yank.

His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling your head back just enough to make your eyes meet his. And his gaze? Dark. Feral. Completely wrecked.

"Look at me," he muttered, his grip tightening, his breath ragged.

"Watch me while I fucking destroy you."

And then—he did exactly that.

Jongho’s grip on your hair tightened, forcing your gaze onto his. His hips snapped forward—ruthless, punishing, relentless. Harder. Deeper. Unyielding.

Every thrust was a claim, a vow, a promise to ruin you beyond repair.

The desk beneath you creaked, your body jolting with every devastating movement.

"You feel that?" he rasped, his voice dripping with dominance, his tone laced with pure, unfiltered possession.

"Feel how deep I am? How I’m making you take it?"

Your breath hitched, your body tightening, the coil in your stomach winding dangerously close to snapping.

Jongho noticed. Of course he did. He smirked—dark, knowing. And then—he stopped. Pulled out.

Your body screamed in protest, the pleasure that had built up to a near-breaking point now cruelly ripped away.

A strangled noise left your lips. "You—"

"You think you get to come?" Jongho cut you off, his hand gripping your hip, forcing you still beneath him.

"You think I’ll let you have it that easily?"

Then—he was inside you again. Filling you up in a single, brutal thrust, dragging you back to the edge— And stopping. Again.

"Fuck—" you gasped, your hands clenching into fists behind your back, your legs trembling.

A dark chuckle rumbled in his chest.

"Not until I hear you," he murmured, his grip tightening, his voice deep, wicked.

"You want to come, sweetheart?" His breath ghosted over your ear, his hips rolling into you with slow, deliberate torture.

"Then say my fucking name."

You swallowed hard, your pride fighting against the sheer desperation flooding your body.

You were so close, so ruined, so wrecked—

But you refused to give in. So he did it again. And again. Brought you to the peak—then ripped it away. Over. And over. And over. Until—

"Jongho!"

It tore from your throat, raw and desperate, a curse, a plea, a surrender all in one.

Only then did he give it to you.

Only then did he let you fall.

And when you did?

You shattered.

The pleasure crashed over you in violent waves, your body tightening, clenching, convulsing around him as he groaned through clenched teeth.

"That’s it," he murmured, his pace turning wild, ruthless.

"Take it. Fucking take it.”

And then—he followed.

Burying himself deep one more time, his grip bruising, his body wrecked as he spilled inside you—

Filling you. Claiming you. Destroying you.

And when the tremors faded, when your breath finally returned, when your body lay limp against the desk, utterly spent—

Jongho? He wasn’t finished.

Not even close.

His fingers slid to your chin, tilting your head just enough to meet his gaze.

And his next words? A promise.

"You think I’m done with ruining you?"

His lips brushed yours, his voice dark, wrecked, hungry.

"You don’t even know the half of it.”

Jongho didn’t stop.

Didn’t let you breathe. Didn’t let you think.

Your body was still trembling, still wrecked from the last orgasm, but he wasn’t done with you.

His fingers pushed deep—so deep you nearly screamed.

"You feel that?" His voice was dark, rough, dripping with possession.

"You’re taking everything I give you, and I haven’t even ruined you completely yet."

His other hand grabbed your face, forcing you to look at him, forcing you to see the hunger in his gaze.

Then—he shoved his fingers between your lips.

"Suck."

It wasn’t a request.

Your tongue flicked over them, hot, wet, sinful— and Jongho groaned, low and wrecked.

"That’s a good girl," he muttered, his fingers dragging over your tongue before pulling free with a wet pop.

"Now, let’s see how loud I can make you scream."

And then—he was inside you again. Hard. Deep. Devastating.

Your back arched, a moan breaking from your lips, but Jongho wasn’t satisfied with that. His fingers found your clit, pressing, rubbing, teasing— You jolted. Cursed.

"Too much?" he mocked, his pace turning brutal, his grip on your waist tightening.

"Too bad."

His thrusts were merciless, unrelenting, driving you higher, harder— Until the pleasure became unbearable.

Your body convulsed, tightening, clenching, shaking— And Jongho felt it.

"Give it to me," he ordered, his voice pure command, pure dominance, pure destruction. You finally shattered.

Your scream broke through the room, your body wrecked, trembling, convulsing around him—Jongho groaned, his own restraint snapping, his grip on you bruising, unyielding—

And then he followed.

Filling you to the brim this time, all over again, cum dripping from your cunt on the desk.

And when it was over—when you were nothing but a trembling mess beneath him—

Jongho leaned down, his breath hot against your ear.

Jongho didn’t move for a long moment, his breath still ragged, his body still pressed against yours, the heat between you still unbearable.

Then, slowly, deliberately, he leaned in, his lips ghosting over your ear, his voice low, wrecked, commanding.

"I’ll untie you," he murmured, fingers dragging down your spine, teasing, taunting, possessive.

"But only if you swear yourself to me. To my side."

You inhaled sharply. You knew what he meant. He wasn’t just asking for loyalty—he was demanding it.

"Join me," he continued, his fingers tightening around your wrists, his touch still firm, still controlling. "Or I keep you here. Forever.”

The threat—or promise—sent a dangerous thrill down your spine. A smirk tugged at your lips despite the exhaustion in your limbs, the soreness in your body, the undeniable fact that he had completely, utterly wrecked you.

You tilted your head slightly, voice teasing, sultry, defiant.

"You know," you mused, deliberately slow, deliberately provoking,

"I was gonna retire from being a spy for them anyway."

Jongho stilled.

You grinned, eyes flashing as you added, "Guess you're stuck with me, General.”

Jongho still had that dark, commanding presence as he loomed over you, his grip firm, his body still radiating heat and power. His fingers traced over the marks he’d left on your skin, a silent reminder of what he’d just done to you.

But you weren’t about to let him have the last word.

Even wrecked, trembling, and utterly ruined, you still had your pride.

You smirked, tilting your head up slightly, feigning innocence.

"Didn’t you get enough of me, darling?" you teased, your voice dripping with mock sweetness, your eyes flashing with mischief despite the raw pleasure still lingering in your body.

He leaned in, his breath hot against your skin, his voice a sinful whisper.

"Didn’t I ruin your pussy enough?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your jaw, his tone dark and taunting.

"You’re teasing me because you want more, aren’t you?"

His fingers trailed down your spine, sending a shiver through your exhausted body, his presence still overwhelming, still utterly in control.

Your smirk didn’t waver. His didn’t either.

“You're mine. Utterly, completely, mine.”

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its-luna-noel · 1 day ago

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bellesa house

episode 1, satoru & you (sensual)

"Welcome to Bellesa House, where we let performers tell us who they want to have sex with and why." pornstar!jjk men x pornstar!reader

warnings: 18+, MDNI, f!reader, pornstar!au, older reader & younger gojo (like mid-30s and mid-20s respectively), based on bellesa house, sensuality, sensual porn

word count: 2.8k next: episode 2, suguru & you

masterlist | link to ao3

notes: hi there, here's another fic idea i just couldn't shake, based on bellesa house, a porn project w/ the above description. most scenes are split into one of three categories: sensual, passionate, or rough; so, each chapter will also be labeled as such! (if you're a porn person and haven't checked out bellesa, this is my psa). next up is geto:) thanks for reading!

You’re propped up in a bed with half a dozen pillows, dressed in blue lacy lingerie, staring down a camera on a tripod.

It’s something you’ve done hundreds of times.

You give the camera your performer name, offering a coy little smile that’s become your signature. You’ve been doing porn for years now, and when the production team came to you to pilot a new concept – to play house with another performer of your choosing – you, of course, chose Satoru Gojo.

A young buck on the scene, he’s only been in a couple dozen videos total, but he’s already the new heartthrob at the studio, with his big, charming smile and pretty blue eyes. You’ve heard he’s good, too, fantastic on camera and a sweetheart off it.

Satoru chose you because he thinks you’re hot.

Hey, he’s always had a thing for older women, and he knows you’re not that much older than him, but it still makes him hard to think of what you could do with all that experience. It also feels good to know you want to fuck him too as he climbs into the bed for his own interview.

“So,” begins the director, smiling past the camera to the young rising star on the bed, “how are you feeling, knowing the first time you meet your co-star will be here on camera?”

Satoru shrugs his muscular shoulders, smiling a little. “It’s not that different from what I usually do; most of the time we meet on set and an hour later we’re in the middle of a scene. So, I’m not too uncomfortable with it.”

“How does it feel to be working with an industry favorite?”

He chuckles, then, his smile growing as he lowers his eyes, playing almost bashful. “That’s a little more intimidating, I guess. Obviously I’ve seen her work; I just hope I can live up to the great stuff she puts out.”

The video cuts to your interview, to your teasing smile at the camera as you lean back casually against the pillows, looking decadent in your lingerie. The director speaks again from behind the camera, “So, when we bring him in here, do you think you guys will talk, will you get straight to it…?”

You hum thoughtfully, that same smile still curling your lips as you tilt your head. “The young ones are always so eager to get started and skip the awkward introductions, so I’m guessing we’ll just dive in. But who knows! Maybe he’ll surprise me.”

“Alright, well, the next time that door opens, he’ll be coming in, and you guys can do whatever you want!” Your director gives you a supportive thumbs up from behind the camera; she trusts you to make whatever you do together good. You’ve never let her down before. Then, “Action!”

The sleek white door swings open, and there stands Satoru, feigning a casual air with his hands in the pockets of his joggers. He’s got that smile on his face, and you can’t help but return the expression as you wave him in encouragingly. “Hi!” you greet enthusiastically, propping yourself up on your knees on the bed.

Your comforting air seems to put him a little more at ease; he walks in, easing himself onto the edge of the bed beside you. His pretty blue eyes take in the set of lingerie you’re wearing – something that matches those eyes. You look amazing, so fucking sexy he’s already growing hard at the sight of you. Then he looks back up at your face, finding you still smiling, and he smiles back before leaning in slightly. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says softly, and you both giggle a little, clearly letting your nerves run a little higher now that you’re meeting each other for the first time.

You lean in, too, still laughing softly, until your nose brushes his. “Nice to meet you, too,” you whisper, and then you part your lips, inviting him to meet you halfway.

He does, his lips pushing against yours, already hard and desperate. You can tell he’s still a little nervous, diving right in instead of pacing himself for the camera, and so you put a gentle hand on the side of his face, fingers stroking the strong line of his jaw. You’re trying not to intimidate him, but that’s hard when you have over a thousand videos under your belt and he has maybe 20. He feels your touch and understands, wants to follow your lead, so he tries to shake himself and slow down.

It’s just a scene, doesn’t matter that she’s the sexiest and most experienced co-star he’s ever had.

His lips slow against yours, now taking the time to taste your mouth, your minty fresh breath and the berry chapstick you have on. Your tongue is phenomenal, slipping against his with practiced ease as you lick into his mouth, and he licks right back with the vitality and enthusiasm of a young performer.

You’ve almost forgotten what that spark feels like. A similar one, after years of being dormant, flares to like deep in your belly.

You kiss for a couple minutes before you let your hand wander from the side of his face, down his neck, to his torso. His chest and belly are muscular under his t-shirt, and you can feel every subtle tightening of those muscles while you touch him. His hands follow, coming to rest on your bare arms, bringing you closer to his body. You arch your back, curving into his chest while he continues to kiss you, and then you move your touch from his belly down to the hard bulge in the front of his sweatpants.

You can tell by feel that he’s one of the bigger men you’ve worked with.

He lets you touch him unhindered for a few moments before he brings his own fingers down to stroke between your thighs, feeling a spreading wetness on the thin fabric of your panties. You both focus on heavy petting for a while, getting each other aroused while your mouths continue moving against each other.

You have to hand it to him; he’s good at what he does.

Once you’re finally wet and feeling ready to take the scene further, you gently push him backwards onto the bed, crawling over him until you’re straddling his hips. You pull away from the kiss enough to smile down at him, and he smiles back, seeming dazzled by you as you dip your fingers into the elastic waistband of his joggers. You pull those down first, and he helps you get them free of his ankles before you toss the fabric aside onto the floor.

You can see the imprint of his dick against his boxers, and now you’re pretty sure he’s one of the biggest you’ve seen. It’s a pleasant surprise; no wonder he’s a rising star on the scene.

You lean forward, pressing your cheek to his thigh, nuzzling playfully and grinning up at him. “You ready?” you ask, for his benefit, knowing it’ll be edited out in post.

He chuckles quietly, and your tummy flutters at the sound; he’s got a good laugh, too. He brushes your hair into one hand, gently guiding your mouth towards the straining bulge of his cock. “Ready,” he confirms.

You grip the waistband of his tight, Calvin Klein boxer briefs and slowly, achingly, pull them down his legs.

You let yourself take a good look as you toss aside the fabric, assessing how much work you’ll have to put in; a lot, is the answer. He’s massive, long and pink and beautiful. Mouthwatering. You’re practically drooling as you settle between his legs and, glancing up at him through your lashes, let your tongue slip out from between your lips and take a taste.

He lets out a soft sigh, eyes watching your every move as you start licking his tip, short little laps that drive him crazy. His hand tightens in your hair, just enough to signal to you that he’s ready.

Or, he thought he was.

When you lean in and take him in the hot, wet cavern of your mouth, he’s already seeing starts at how fucking good your tongue feels swirling around his head. You bring your hands up and grip the base of his cock, squeezing lightly, before you take him a little deeper.

Satoru can’t hold back moans so whiny it’s almost pathetic; you’re sucking him off so well, both hands stroking his length slowly as your mouth bobs over his blushing tip, cheeks hollowed like you want to suck him dry. Then you move your hands and dive down until he’s shoved as far down your throat as you can take, staying there for a moment as your throat closes down around him on every side. His head drops back to the pillows as he lets out another whine, and then you pull back, hands coming back to his base as you suck the tip.

It feels so fucking good that he’s scared he’s gonna cum already.

So he pulls you off of him, guiding you down onto your belly on the bed. “Arch for me,” he murmurs in your ear, and you do, back arched so beautifully that he can’t wait to watch the tape on his own time and screenshot this pose for him to keep. He grabs the back of his shirt and yanks it off, leaving his muscular body on display for the cameras as he pushes your lacy blue panties to the side, arousal already drenching the thin fabric and sticking it to your pussy.

He hums in delight at the sight of your gorgeous folds, and he leans in, pressing a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to your lower lips, like he’s making out with your cunt from behind. You let out a moan into the mattress, arching further to force your hips back into his face. He grins against you before grabbing the flesh of your hips, holding you in place while he pushes deeper, past your outer folds to lick a line of heat from your clit to the lower corner of your pussy. Then he moves his mouth back to your clit, his nose bumping against the wet entrance to your cunt while his tongue laps greedily at it. His hands move down to grab the fat of your ass, thumbs spreading you apart to expose you more to his mouth and eyes while he eats you out from the back.

You’re making such delicious noises, not just for the camera, but because his mouth is just that good. He hums again, this time with your clit against his tongue, before he takes the swollen bundle between his lips and sucks softly. Your hips jolt against his face, and he lets go with a lewd pop, before flicking his tongue over your clit again, taking his time to work you up towards your orgasm.

“Oh my god…” you breathe, lashes fluttering as your eyes close to the ecstasy. “Feels so good…”

“Yeah?” he mumbles into your cunt, eyes closed, too, as he tastes how fucking sweet you are. “Want something to cum on?”

You moan at his words, hips bucking backwards again, like you’re trying to chase down your high… He pulls away before you can get there, grinning cheekily when you whimper. “Aww,” he croons, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before grabbing your hips and rolling you over onto your back, “it’s okay. I’ll make you cum; I promise.”

“You better,” you tease back, reaching up to slide the straps of your bodysuit off your shoulders and down your arms, pooling the lace around your waist, “or I’ll be very disappointed in you.”

He takes the fabric the rest of the way off, still grinning as he looks at your perfect body, one he’s seen in dozens of videos with his hand wrapped around his own cock, making himself cum to the sound of your moans. It’s a dream come true to be filming with you, and he lets himself remember that fact before he leans over you, reaching down to align himself with your dripping, fluttering entrance. He glances into your eyes for a moment, checking that you’re alright, and the look in your eyes is such a clear affirmative that he can’t hold back anymore.

He pushes inside you slowly, both of you letting out soft, broken moans in unison as he sheaths himself in you.

Then, once he’s fully seated inside you, your cunt squeezing around him, so wet and warm and fucking perfect, he pulls back and starts to fuck you slowly, sensually.

He grabs your thighs and wraps them around his hips, and your heels press into his ass with every thrust, holding him that much closer, that much deeper. He groans, lips parted as he pants softly, his hips rocking in smooth, fluid motions.

Your lips are parted, too, as you reach down to rub your clit with the pads of your fingers, drawing aching circles– Satoru bumps your hand away and takes over for you. “Let me,” he pants, watching your reaction as your head falls back against the pillows with another moan. He groans at the sight and leans in, placing soft, adoring kisses to the column of your throat, to the edge of your jaw, to the curve of your cheek… All the while rubbing those perfect circles on your clit.

Your pussy is starting to clench around him. “Oh my god,” you whine, throwing your head back, and the performance isn’t even for the cameras anymore, it’s for him, to let him know how good he’s making you feel. Every thrust puts him right at your g-spot, and his fingers have the perfect pressure on your clit, a catastrophic combination of sensations that’s quickly sending you towards the edge. “Please don’t stop.”

He keeps kissing towards the corner of your mouth. “Cum for me,” he says, and then he presses his lips to yours, claiming your tongue with his as he fucks you through your orgasm. You moan and whine into the kiss, your cunt clenching and spasming around his cock, and he groans against your mouth at the feeling of you sucking him even further inside you.

Fuck, he’s not gonna last like this.

So he rolls you over onto your tummy again, even though your legs are still weak and shaky from your climax, and presses you down into the mattress with gentle hands. He spreads your legs for you, angling your hips right where he wants you, and then he leans over your body, palms planted firmly on either side of your shoulders to hold his weight above you before he starts rocking back into your perfect fucking pussy.

His shoulders are heaving with the effort to hold back, to not cum after two seconds like this, but his eyes are trained on how your ass conforms to the shape of his hips with every thrust, and the curve of your back looks like the perfect bullseye for his cum–

He groans, pulling out before he can accidentally empty himself inside you. Then he strokes himself, his hand pumping over the wet, sensitive head of his cock as he stares at your fluttering pussy, wishing he could’ve cum there– maybe next time– With a choking sound and breathless moans, he watches pearly ropes of his seed shoot out over the smooth skin of your back.

When he catches his breath, he can’t help but pull up short. Wait, next time??

Once you’re showered and dressed in street clothes again, walking out of the studio with your bag over your shoulder, you hear a familiar voice behind you. “Hey! One sec.”

You turn, a smile already on your face as you recognize Satoru’s voice. His hair is still wet from his shower, too, hanging damp in front of his shining eyes. “Hey,” you respond, smiling as he walks over. “Great job today. You’ve got a great career ahead of you, you know.”

“I know,” he says, not arrogantly, just as a fact. But he doesn’t want to talk about that now. He looks a little nervous as he shifts from one foot to the other. “I just wanted to say thanks for…choosing me to work with you today. I had a lot of fun.”

Your smile spreads a little wider. “Me, too,” you tell him, and then you turn your back, because you’re already late for dinner with your friends. “See you around!”

“Wait!” he calls again, and you stop, surprised. You turn and blink up at him.

“Uh, this might sound dumb…but can I get your number?”

thanks for reading! -luna xx link to ao3 | next: suguru & you

#banners by cafekitsune #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo smut #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #satoru gojo #fanfiction

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golden-loona · 3 days ago

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tick-tack [j.j.k] | one shot

summary: you've never felt the need to change for someone until now, but will jungkook like your new version?

pairing: jungkook x oc

words: 6,076

inspired by "tick-tack" by illit

"tick tack, ti-tack, thump

it's noisy, my heart"

•

the air in the cafe is bright and bubbly, walls painted in bright pastel colours, stickers of drawings and names of previous customers cover one of the walls. music plays gently over the radio, the only other noise being chatter amongst you and your friends. you're in your element and you love being in it. brown sugar milk tea and tapioca, your usual order when you aren't feeling adventurous. less ice of course, so you get more drink than you do ice. you naturally twiddle the charms hanging from your shoulder bag between your fingers as you and your friends converse about campus gossip. who recently hooked up with who, who recently got in a fight, all the usual stuff.

"love your skirt, by the way" your friend yeji compliments you, you smile softly and look down at the pink pleated, plaid skirt you're wearing. its as if cher horowitz and the plastics did a clothing line collab, your wardrobe is one all the girly girls die for. "on god, where did you get it? I need it!" hana says with a slight pout, you chuckle softly and sip your tea, "it was a gift but i'll find out!" you were always a girls girl and you still are. that's what your friends like about you, your loyalty and honesty.

"thought we'd find you in here," the voice of hana's boyfriend rings out as the door of the bubble tea shop swings open. namjoon steps inside with his friends, your eyes naturally search for _him_ and when they find him, tick-tack-tick. your heart thumps for jeon jungkook. he's a computer science major, a total geek but also an utter god (to you anyway). you quickly look away, not wanting to be obvious with your stare. the four boys namjoon, jungkook, taehyung and yoongi all sit down with you and your friends. it's usual for your friend groups to mix, directly at the hands of namjoon and hana's relationship and god everyday you thank hana for being with joon, you wouldn't get to even look at jungkook if it wasn't for her.

quietly fixing your blush cardigan, you smile politely at jungkook. of course he sits next to you, why wouldn't life just make things harder for you? you pray to god he doesn't hear the way your heart ticks in your chest, that would be a tough explanation. the groups chatter amongst each other while you silently sip your drink, suddenly its harder to formulate words with jungkook around. what if you fuck up? what if you make a joke and it doesn't land? god fucking forbid.

"are you guys going to jackson's party?" taehyung asks as he sips yeji's drink, she kisses her teeth and lightly slaps his arm in protest. "of course we are, who isn't?" your friend jia remarks, which to be fair is very true. who doesn't go to jackson wang's parties? everyone pretty much crowned him the king of campus and honestly he deserves that title, he throws the best parties. "are you going, y/n?" jungkook directly asks you, your chest flutters hearing the way your name falls from his lips. you stutter, "i- um, yeah," you nod your head awkwardly and already want the ground to swallow you up, "of course i'm going," jungkook smiles and internally chuckles at the way you stutter.

the truth is, jungkook knows you like him. well everyone knows, its not hard to tell and you're not exactly subtle. the way you look at him when he enters a room like he saved the world from a pandemic, the way your words fumble and your lips numb when he speaks to you, the way you become rigid when his finger so much as brush your skin. you almost had a panic attack a month ago when he took your jacket off for you. you feel you've gotten better at hiding it, brushing things off in a playful way. simply laughing or smiling at him politely. "you look nice," jungkook says nonchalantly, you almost choke on tapioca but quickly hide it by sipping your drink. "thanks- thank you," you reply quickly, blush pinking your cheeks. jia gives you a knowing smirk, knowing exactly what you're thinking and feeling. your friends know better than anyone how you feel for jungkook and its the worst thing in the world but also the best. they give you advice, they wingwoman you but they also tease you to high heavens.

"it's loud, my heart"

jackson's party is on friday, as usual. the end of the week and of course every friday is a cause for celebration, no classes yay! you decided to try out a new colour today, instead of your usual pink-themed dresses you opt for a lilac bodycon dress, a cream chunky cardigan over the top to keep you warm. once again, your friend groups mingles into its way with jungkook's. you can't help but notice the way he's distracted by another woman, you know her, haseul. she's older and is a lot more.. mature than you are for sure. dressed in neutral colours, her hair is a sleek black compared to your dyed muted pink hair. she looks more grown up, more sophisticated and you can't help the pang in your chest when he settles his hands on her waist, whispering flirting lines into her ear. you pull away from the group and get yourself a drink, yeji follows out of pity. "sorry you had to see that," she apologises, you shake your head. "he's single, he can do what he wants," you defend him and you hate yourself for it, you wish you were haseul right now and it sucks. "not drinking tonight?" yeji asks, watching you pour yourself some fanta orange, you shake your head. "not in the mood for it," you admit before bringing the cup to your lips, yeji nods in understanding. "you can be our ride home then?" she cheekily remarks, hoping you'll agree and of course you do. jealousy sits unkindly in your chest and your head swirls with insecurity, is haseul his type? or is she just a one off? you sincerely hope it's the latter.

the night ends when you all find hana in a bush, completely and utterly off her face. "how many vodka cranberry's did you even have?" you hold her up, namjoon holding her on the other side. "i need to get her home, can you give us a ride?" namjoon asks politely and you nod, "of course i can," you and namjoon struggling to get hana to the car when jungkook spots you, rushing over to help being the gentleman he is. "jesus christ, hana" jungkook grumbles, you nervously chuckle and quickly move to open your car. namjoon and jungkook slide hana into the backseat, namjoon joins her and you close the door. "would it be cheeky for me to ask for a ride too?" jungkook hesitantly gives you a playful smile and you giggle, shaking your head. "get in."

the drive to namjoon's apartment is comfortable, sort of. jungkook is in your passenger seat and you feel exposed to him in a way you never have before. your car is the perfect picture of you. a pink steering wheel, plushies dotted around the car, a strawberry air freshener, pink interior lights and seat covers, lipgloss and pink water bottles dotted around. its the essence of you and despite your vulnerability in the moment, jungkook actually appreciates it and finds it endearing. namjoon sits in the back with hana, she's flopped onto him and drunkenly murmuring incoherent words.

you drive quietly and jungkook grabs a plushie thats sitting atop the dashboard, "you have so many of these," he observes. you smile and gently nod your head, "i have more at home," you admit. jungkook chuckles softly and shakes his head, "you're like a child," the words echo in your ear. he said it playfully but, is that why he won't pick you? because he views you as immature and childlike? "i guess so," you awkwardly respond, gulping harshly. you stop outside namjoon's apartment, jungkook helps him lift hana out the car and up the stairs while you wait at the curbside for him. his words continue to rewind and play in your head, your insecurities coming to the surface. it makes your head spin slightly and you suddenly dislike everything about yourself.

you're pulled from your thoughts when jungkook gets back into the car with a hefty sigh, you smile politely, "ready?" jungkook tiredly nods his head and buckles his seatbelt. for jungkook, the silence is comfortable. but for you? the silence is just absolutely deafening. it makes every word floating in your mind louder and louder. "you look nice," jungkook breaks the silence with his usual compliment, your glossy lips curve into a light smile. "thank you," you mumble softly, eyes on the road. your heart thumps with a slightly erratic rhythm, tick-tack ti-tack.

that night, you get home and all your plushies get swiftly abandoned into a closet. you empty your car of plushies and your bed looks lost without them, the sheets looking a little too vacant. but its for the better, right? keep the childish stuff in the closet, crumple up all the playful doodles. will he like you then? are you less immature? going to bed without at least one plushie on your bed is lonely and you feel slightly cold, but thats just growing up isn't it? worried sighs leave your chest as you attempt to sleep, the constant questions whirling around in your head. you feel a heavy tightness of doubt in your chest, are you really doing this for you? or are you doing this for jungkook? after all, maybe he'll like you now.

•

you and your friends have a habit of having random picnics on the quad, its not even planned it just happens. you all lay out on a blanket and share food, until the boys all invade and suddenly there are no chips left? classic taehyung. you decided to change up a little bit today, taking the cute keychains and small plushie off your handbag and opting for more muted pinks with your clothes, wearing a pair of flared leggings instead of your usual skirt. jungkook lays down on the blanket next to you and you smile softly, ignoring the way your heart ticks in your chest. he looks up at you and a small smile reaches his eyes, you instantly set yourself into a cooler mode. attempting to calm your racing heart, forcing yourself to relax instead of being rigid.

"how are you still hungover?" yoongi remarks, hana pouts and holds her head. "shut up," she groans, the group chuckles lightly. "she drank enough for like 10 people," you joke softly, earning more laughter from the group. you see jungkook's chest shake with a slight chuckle and it makes you smile, you love making him laugh.

the sound of a shutter opening echoes across the quad and jia automatically stands to her feet, "coffee vans open, who wants?" everyone lists off their orders and she rolls her eyes, you shake your head. "thank god you're not a coffee person, y/n" jia bows with her hands together playfully, "you're very welcome," you mock salute and jia laughs as she steps away toward the coffee van. you remain quiet as the group converses, "i didn't know you weren't a coffee person," jungkook mumbles softly, you hum in response trying to keep your cool. "i prefer tea," you speak sweetly, he smirks, "bubble tea?" jungkook hits the nail on the head and wow he knows you so well, you nod with a slight chuckle. "you look better in a skirt, by the way," your heart stops at his words and you swear you need a doctor, where is the medicine cabinet? should you call an ambulance? holy fuck.

"here, losers" jia returns with cup holders full of coffees and she's joined by.. haseul. of course, of all people haseul had to come and join you all. jungkook sits up and begins conversation with her, it stings. honestly you'd rather be stung by a bee than have to watch this conversation, you can see why he'd like her though. she's beautiful, sophisticated, mature, grown up. everything you think you lack. she's well-spoken and her voice is soft on the ears, another thing you lack. you're playful, slightly loud and not as articulate as she is. you note her sense of fashion, neutral colours and clothes that compliment her body. black flared trousers with a long sleeved beige t-shirt that flows over her wrists. it makes you feel sick, is this what you need to become? is it truly time to ditch the pinks and pastels?

"i like your hair," haseul compliments you, pulling you away from the whirlwind in your head. you exhale and smile gently, "thank you." haseul nods in response and continues to admire the soft muted pink of your hair, the way it falls on your shoulders, "it wouldn't suit me, i'm too grown up to do that now," haseul comments with a light chuckle, the group laughs with her and you feel an epic halt in your chest. the laughter is innocent and playful but the comment cuts like a knife and you feel suddenly out of place. too grown up. too grown up for pink. "i like your hair, y/n" yeji says sharply, "it suits you," you smile gratefully at yeji. she's always been protective of you and the way people comment on you, like an older sister you never had. you remain silent for the rest of the break, the comment really doing a number on your self esteem. maybe it is time to ditch the pink.

here you are, in your bathroom at 9pm with a dark brown box dye in your hand. you've been hesitating for 20 minutes now, convincing yourself that this is the right thing to do and you're definitely doing it for yourself, not so jungkook will like you. "time to grow up," you mumble to yourself as you open the box. you sadly look at your reflection, basking in the last moments of having your hair this colour. you run your fingers gently through your hair one last time before gloving your hands and beginning to paint the dark brown dye into your hair, there's no going back now.

your friends are astounded when you walk into the bubble tea shop a few days later, their jaws dropping. you're dressed differently too, in a pair of washed out jeans and a white cropped t-shirt (albeit, it does have hello kitty on the front), your go-to blush chunky cardigan warms your arms. "girl- what? what the fuck happened to the pink?" hana asks confusedly, you sit with them at your usual table and shrug, "i'm over it." if their jaws could drop any more, they would. jia leans forward, brows raised. "excuse me? over it?" she remarks and you nod, digging into your bag for your phone. they all exchange looks like you've grown a second head and realisation hits yeji, "wait.. is this because of that dumb bitch haseul?" fuck, of course she would hit the nail on the head.

"no, this was not because of haseul," you lie, avoiding the gaze of your friends. her name on your tongue tastes bitter and the insecurity of even thinking of her sits in your chest. "don't let a comment from a random girl make you change yourself," yeji tells you gently, patting your knee. you shake your head, "its just time to grow up," you say dismissively with a slight firmness to your tone, your stomach churns as you say it. your hand tightening on your phone. who are you trying to convince? the girls once again exchange looks and jia sighs, hana hesitantly sips her drink. they know there's no getting through to you once your mind is set on it, no matter how much sadness sits in your eyes. you twirl your hair between your fingers softly, the dark locks swiftly weaving in and out, a lump forms in your throat and you can't help but miss the pink.

"will you like me?"

jungkook very swiftly moved on from haseul and started seeing another girl called yumi. you know her too, a business major around the same age as you. once again she's a girl who seems more mature and sophisticated. a good head on her shoulders, a soft tone when she speaks and she's beautiful. of course jungkook would go for her, looks like he has a type and you don't fit into it, not yet. she joins the group for lunch at the bubble tea shop, you sit down next to taehyung after receiving your order of strawberry milk tea.

"are you sure you don't want anything?" jungkook politely asks yumi, she laughs lightly and shakes her head. "boba? that's too childish for me," she remarks and jungkook chuckles in response. his reaction hits your chest and suddenly you have no appetite for strawberry milk tea. the word "childish" continues to echo in your mind, its all you hear lately and it makes you think thats all jungkook sees you as. childish.

"well i think it's god's gift," jia says with a gentle smile before sipping the taro milk tea she holds in her hands, her comment eases the tension in your chest and you feel slightly better. yeji too gives you a reassuring smile from across the table and pops the straw into your drink for you. minutes roll by, the group swept up in heavy conversation. gossip flies back and forth across the table, the occasional debates here and there. "why aren't you drinking your bubble tea?" taehyung whispers, you look to your full plastic cup. the strawberry milk tea remains untouched, your tongue craves the taste but your insecurities scream "no!" its too conflicting. "you can have it if you'd like, i'm not thirsty anymore" you slide the cup over to taehyung and he nods, pausing for a second before grabbing it and sipping through the straw. concern holds in his eyes as he watches you. hana catches the interaction but remains silent, not wanting to make you the centre of attention during a moment of potential vulnerability.

the conversation is slowly wrapping up outside, jungkook's hand sits perfectly on the curve of yumi's waist and it makes your chest tight. you swiftly flip your dark brown hair over your shoulder and gently fix your fringe, hana and namjoon chatter with each other and you remain quiet. "are you okay?" hana asks quietly, you pause and look at her before nodding. jungkook joins the four of you and he's alone, "yumi took a cab," he tells us with a sigh. the air feels awkward, to you anyway, like you don't know what to say or do. hana and namjoon say their goodbyes and disappear, leaving you with jungkook and honestly fuck you hana for doing so.

"so you.. ditched the pink?" jungkook asks, a hint of disappointment in his voice, "yeah, i decided it was time for a change," you lie again. you miss the pink, you miss putting your hair in cute hair styles and people saying you look like you belong in an anime, you just miss it. "thats a shame, pink suited you," jungkook voices his thoughts honestly, because truth be told he loved the pink, you looked cute with pink hair. you almost want to slap yourself, suddenly wishing you never dyed your hair in the first place. he liked the pink? you can't believe he liked the pink! no, this was for the better. jungkook likes grown up girls and pink hair is not grown up, no more childishness.

"what kind of me do you like?"

on monday, you ditch your usual bubble tea and go to the coffee van. jia has to do a double take, "y/n? you don't like coffee," she says confusedly, you shrug in response, "i do now." yeji and hana watch from the group's regular spot under the big tree on the quad and they are just as confused as jia, you order a flat white and don't bother with sugar. sophisticated girls drink plain flat whites, don't they? you and jia join yeji and hana on the blanket under the tree, "girl, what are you doing?" hana says curiously, you sit on the blanket and sip your coffee. you grimace because what the fuck? people genuinely drink this and like it? disgusting. being sophisticated is hard work. "what do you mean?" you respond, the bitter taste on your tongue making you shudder. "first your hair then your clothes and what, now you're drinking coffee?" yeji lists off and you lowkey hate your friends for being so observant, "don't think we haven't noticed the lack of plushies too," jia adds and you roll your eyes. "i'm just maturing thats all," you remark, the nausea in your stomach says no, you don't want this.

"if this is all for jungkook i swear-" you interrupt hana with a shake of the head, "no, no, no." she sighs frustratedly, "we get that you like him, y/n," yeji begins before sipping her coffee, "but you shouldn't have to change for someone's attention," the other girls hum and nod their heads in agreement with yeji, it makes you question yourself and your choices. you're definitely doing this for yourself too, not just for jungkook. it's time to begin being more mature, begin being more serious. "how are people supposed to take me seriously if I'm dressed head to toe in pink? or with hello kitty on my bag?" you question firmly, they go silent at your words and you feel slightly guilty for snapping, you don't mean to snap at them but the ever mounding pressures of your insecurities weighs heavily both in your mind and on your chest. "we're just concerned, honey," jia says gently, you nod and sip your drink again. god this is awful.

"we're going to jackson's party tonight, coming?" yeji swiftly changes the subject and you silently thank her, wait- a party on a monday? "it's monday, yeji" you remind her and she shrugs, "i'm in the mood for a drink and dance," hana says with a yawn. "you're always in the mood for alcohol," jia remarks and you all chuckle amongst yourselves. "jungkook will be there," yeji teases and you kiss your teeth, "shut up," your cheeks tint slightly and the thought of seeing jungkook again makes you feel a rush through your veins. will he pay attention to you this time? will he notice you?

•

the party is as wild as jackson's friday parties usually are and considering its a monday night, you're surprised. for the first time you completely ditch any pink clothing, opting for a black long sleeved, bodycon dress. no cute chunky cardigan this time. you look very different, not as cute and more mature. finally. you still haven't seen jungkook yet and hana can see the disappointment in your features, "he'll be here," she reassures you, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. music blares through the speakers and you sip red wine from a solo cup, this is what grown ups drink isn't it? it's not awful so you aren't complaining. "hey everyone," that familiar voice makes your ears ring and your heart thumps loudly. tick tack, ti-tack.

you politely smile as jungkook greets the group, he looks slightly sweaty and you thank the universe for making him exist. "hey- you look.. different," jungkook observes, checking out your outfit. you smile politely, "thank you, you look handsome," you say confidently, he nods slowly and then returns to his friends. disappointment sits in your chest and you wonder if he genuinely noticed you or was just being polite. are you not interesting enough for him to talk to? are you too forward? you gulp the rest of your drink, letting the taste settle on your tongue. a familiar face settles next to jungkook.. yumi. the self esteem you built up from looking in the mirror earlier tonight comes crashing down in an instant, you could never meet his standard and it kills you. yumi is everything jungkook wants, polished, confident and effortlessly beautiful. suddenly you don't feel so mature anymore, you feel small.

•

you return home early from the party that night, tears sting the corner of your eyes as you gaze at yourself in the mirror. who even are you anymore? you feel lost in your own body, staring at the reflection of someone you don't recognise. you're struggling to convince yourself this is for the better, the internal insecurities have amounted too much and you no longer think you can conquer them. the same way you can't conquer jungkook's high standard, you're slowly beginning to accept that you'll never reach it. no matter how many ladders you use. your heart ticks away as tears stain your cheeks, tick-tack tick-tack ti-tack. like a clock. every moment passes and you can't stop crying. who are you now? the girl who loved wearing pink, drinking bubble tea and kept hello kitty plushies on her bed? or this new version, lost, empty and chasing something out of reach?

"which version of me do you like?"

that night was a struggle, but you're determined. one last try at being "mature." you decided to switch up your personality slightly, being less jokey and playful, instead opting to be more serious and less chatty. your friends decided to gather at the bubble tea shop and you arrive with an americano in hand, setting with them in your usual spot. "no boba again?" hana notices, your hand tightens slightly on your cup and you feign a smile, nodding. the girls engage in conversation, you remain quiet, just responding with body language. you keep a good posture instead of slouching, something you mentally noted both haseul and yumi doing. the girls joke about something and the lack of laughter or usual funny comment that comes from you makes them notice and they notice hard.

"what's up?" jia asks you gently, sipping through her straw, you shake your head softly, "nothing, why?" yeji snorts in response, knowing you're lying. "you're being just.. off?" hana is gentle with her words and you're grateful for it, but you can't help wanting them to stop poking and prodding you like a baby. "is this about jungkook again?" hana adds, you shake your head as you sip your americano, letting the bitter taste melt in your mouth. "you've changed, y/n" jia says softly, the words hit you harshly and you feel a slight pang of guilt. you don't know whether to take it as a compliment or criticism, "i'm just growing up" you say in a small voice, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. the words feel different on your tongue- like a lie you're struggling to convince yourself of. you don't want them to worry about you, not after you worked so hard to change.

the conversation quickly changes and you're grateful, the girls make occasional jokes and you want to make a funny sarcastic remark but the words stay stuck in your chest. the will to be your old self feels foreign and it sends your mind into a whirlwind of doubt, are you doing the right thing? you're snapped out of your thoughts by the store bell ringing, jungkook and his friends step through the door and you smile politely. namjoon gives hana a swift kiss and the boys all sit to join you. you once again remain quiet and poised, watching the conversation. you feel out of place, like you're spectating your own life. "hey, you okay?" jungkook asks you quietly, your heart pounds slightly and you nod. "you're just.. usually chatty and stuff so," jungkook says, his voice slowly drifting off, he looks disappointed and you feel like an idiot. yumi and haseul were both not chatty and only spoke when spoken to, why doesn't he like it when you do the same? what are you doing wrong?

"are you girls going to hoseok's party tonight?" taehyung asks while he scrolls through his phone, your friends all give a chorus of agreements and you stay quiet. "y/n?" jia awaits your answer and you shrug, "think I might skip out" you reply softly, the girls look at you confused and you give them a hardened look as if to not comment on it. yeji doesn't get the memo, "you always come out with us, why not?" you sigh at her words, mentally trying to come up with an excuse but you struggle to find one. "i uh- have plans," you lie, jungkook is disappointed but he doesn't make that obvious. you get up from your seat a few minutes later, claiming you need to go home.

yeji follows you outside, "not so fast," she says firmly. "you need to spill and you need to spill, now," she orders and you exhale harshly, not wanting this conversation. "you're changing y/n and its not nice to see, you know that right?" yeji adds, all you can do is nod, the lump in your throat is too big for you to even conjure up words. "no boy deserves this amount of change, you deserve to be love for who you are," you hate that yeji can see right through you, she always has done and as much as you finally feel seen, you feel exposed too. "the real me isn't enough," you say sadly, holding the emotion tight in your chest. your words shatter yeji's heart, she wishes you would just go back to being yourself. "i'm growing up now, yeji" you say with a sigh, you want to believe your own words but its hard when you feel like you're losing every piece of yourself in the process. "time to put down the pink." yeji shakes her head, "i feel like i don't even know you anymore," now the tears glass your eyes, even your own friend doesn't recognise the person you've become and it absolutely breaks you. you want to defend yourself, to tell her that this is all for the better.. but even you don't know anymore.

you watch as yeji returns inside the bubble tea cafe and you feel like an absolute outsider, watching your friends all converse with no care in the world. your eyes land on jungkook and the insecurities surface again, you'll never be good enough for him. not even after changing yourself enough to potentially lose your closest friends. not even after changing enough to potentially lose your sense of self.

"will you like me?"

you attend hoseok's party after all, dressed in neutral colours, not a hint of pink. soft glowy makeup and your dark brown hair straightened down your back. life now feels like an outer body experience, you're lost and there's no map to show you the way back. you grab yourself a drink, tequila. that should settle the anxious thoughts in your brain. you spend some time alone, people watching, when your eyes land on jungkook and yumi. so tequila didn't fix the insecure anxiety, great.

"hey y/n," taehyung greets you and you smile gently, "hi tae," you respond. he stands next to you and follows your gaze, "you really like him, hm?" taehyung asks, your body naturally nods, you can't stop yourself from being honest about your feelings for him. "he'll never like me though," you murmur self-consciously, taehyung raised an eyebrow and smirks slightly, "you sure about that?" his question has your stomach churning and you don't know if its a good thing or bad. "what's that supposed to mean?" you ask, thoughts race in your mind and you feel like your body is floating. “find out for yourself,” taehyung tells you with a smirk before leaving you alone again.

the interaction with taehyung and the affects of tequila give you enough courage to approach jungkook, and yumi of course. you smile gently, “hey jungkook,” his eyes lighten as they land on you, “you came! thought you had plans?” jungkook remarks. you shake your head and swirl your drink gently in your hand, you notice the way yumi’s eyes scan your body and it makes you feel more insecure than ever. “turns out i’m free,” you lie, he smiles brightly and sips his drink, going back to conversation with yumi. you stay, listening to their chatter and attempting to join in, but you struggle. the words stay stuck in your throat. you see the way jungkook looks at yumi as she talks, the way his eyes gaze at her lips. your heart thumps anxiously in your chest, tick-tack ti-tack.

“i need some air,” you suddenly announce before abruptly leaving the pair, your breath stutters and finally the pressure of your insecurities crush you. you stand outside hoseok’s house and inhale the fresh air deeply, jungkook’s joins you outside and the unspoken words sit heavily in the air. “are you okay?” he asks hesitantly, you’re dismissive and don’t respond. which is weird for you, especially when it comes to jungkook. “you’ve not been yourself lately,” jungkook comments, a chuckle leaves your lips and you swallow harshly. “you noticed?” you say bitterly, jungkook’s senses the heaviness in your voice and licks his dry lips, “of course I noticed.”

“what version of me do you like, jungkook?” you ask suddenly, he’s confused and words refuse to formulate in his mouth. “I changed myself for you, jungkook. I changed the way I dress, the way I talk, the things I drink,” you list off, you don’t mean to vent but it’s all coming out like word vomit now, and there is no stopping you. “I see the girls you like and I just thought.. if I could be like them, you’d look at me the way you look at her,” your voice breaks as you speak, truthfully you feel embarrassed but you can’t stop the words from flying into the air. your hands tremble softly with the course of adrenaline, the confession lingering heavily in the air.

“i’ve always looked at you, y/n,” jungkook says softly, your heart races. tick-tack. “what kind of me do you like?” you mumble, all you want is to be enough for the man standing in front of you. that’s the only thing that swirls around your mind in circles. “the real you,” jungkook sighs, stepping closer. he runs a hand through his hair and looks at you with soft eyes, “the real me?” you echo is words in a whisper and he nods. “the you that drinks bubble tea like water, the you that keeps hello kitty in her car, the you that wears pink like its a religion, the you that makes sassy comments,” jungkook names one thing after the other so clearly, like it all lives in his head. you feel your chest stop, your heart still beats quickly but you ignore it. the insecurities still linger in your mind, despite his words.

“why didn't you say anything, jungkook?” you question him, the heaviness of your feelings for him linger in your words. “i didn’t know you changed for me, y/n,” jungkook remarks, he’s right. he never knew, it’s not fair to claim he’s wrong here. “you knew I liked you though,” a slight pout graces your lips when you speak and his face falters, he nods softly, “yeah, i did,” jungkook admits, a guilty pause follows, "i've always known." your heart hurts slightly, he really did know all this time. you feel like an absolute idiot.

“why didn't you tell me?” your voice is small when you speak, barely above a whisper. jungkook simply shrugs and you honestly want to shake him, “you’re an idiot, jungkook” you add, he chuckles softly. “I thought you already knew,” jungkook says, making you want to smack your head against a wall. he steps closer to you and gently brushes some of your hair behind your ear, “i miss you in pink.”

your heart pounds. tick-tack, ti-tack, tick-tack, ti-tack.

golden-loona || 2025

#bts #bts jungkook #bts au #bts fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook oneshot #jungkook x reader #bts oneshot #jungkook #golden-loona #loonawrites #oneshot #tick-tack

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lapdoodlebop · 3 days ago

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Stole A Breath

A small little ace x reader drabble I made! it was supposed to be part of a series but then it got out of hand and slowly stopped becoming part of what I originally intended. Not proofread!!

————————————————————————

What sorta loser gets all sweaty when they start holding hands with their crush?' Little does Ace know that he IS that sorta loser, as much as he'd loathe to admit it.

Don't get him wrong. When the two of you become friends, it's nothing to bat an eye over for him. Pats on the back for getting test scores that would send any student spiraling? You guys shared those all the time.

Playful hair ruffles for when either of you say something stupid? He's already messing up your hairdo despite your constant complaints. The sight of you taking his hand while you're pushing through the halls of a bustling crowd isn't even uncommon. You two became best friends in a flash, with physical affection as easy as breathing air.

But all the sudden, it's gotten a bit harder to not choke around you.

————————————————————————-

You and Ace just got out of class, and already swarms of students was taking up every bit of surface possible. There's not even a special occasion, maybe other than a special lunch deal that's been plastered on the walls as posters. Ace clicks his tongue; he's interested to try the new breakfast sandwich on the menu, but he's not sure he wants to weave through hangry, desperate students for it. Thats when you seem to cut off his airflow.

“Come on,” you wordlessly raise your hand and take his before he can get a chance to breathe.

Your fingers are a lot softer than he gave credit for. Did you have some sort of deal with Vil for moisturizer or something? It’d explain why he feels the need to feel your palm at least one time and at most a dozen or two dozen. And your grip is firm, but it’s so gentle too. The way it’s wrapped around his own rougher fingers suddenly has him praying he doesn’t have sweaty palms. He doesn’t, right? That would be so lame. But you haven’t complained yet. You shouldn’t, y-you’re the one that initiated all the skin contact, not him!

His cheeks pinken, eyebrows furrowed as the corners of his mouth twitch into a dismayed expression. What the hell was he thinking? This wasn’t any different from all the other times you took his hand.

So why can’t he follow a single word you’re saying? Something about the cafeteria and cats and sandwiches, he can’t even remember what he wanted right now. Sure the crowd’s a lot bigger than expected, he’s getting pushed against you and his chest bumping into your back is causing him to choke on what little breath he has, b-but that’s a given! Great Seven, he never pays attention in class but this is ridiculous. His eyes keep looking from the back of your head to the hand you interconnected with his, slotted like a puzzle piece waiting to be complete. His hand (all on its own, that’s what he’ll tell you) turns to hold yours (his ‘lead me away’ doesn’t sound so sarcastic anymore when it’s for you). The casual squeeze you give him back sends him further than he thought, goosebumps suddenly running under his sleeve and across his arm. His breath catches in his throat again and now he has to breathe manually before he forgets to.

And then, an idea hits him. A stupid, stupid idea.

You have to be thinking the same thing, right? That’s why this feels so weird. You two are on the same wavelength so often that you must be somehow projecting your thoughts into his own. That HAS to be the reason! It’s totally not him trying to save face over the fact he’s becoming the guy clamoring over one bit of contact from a person he thinks is kinda (really) nice to look at and kinda (really) nice to be around and he wouldn’t mind hanging out with them (forever, in a space together, seeing each other all the time and more).

The butterflies twirling around in his stomach must be what you’re experiencing too, certainly not caused by how you turned back and smiled at him, him of all people you share your smile with all the time as if it was reserved for him only. You must think the same about the wry smile he’s giving you back, one that holds a little too much affection than he wishes he held. He’s pretty great, right? At least, he hopes you think he’s great..

The cafeteria’s a lot closer than he thought. When you guys get there, he lets out the air you kept hostage from him. But now he’s definitely teasing you for wanting to be so close to him afterwards. Taking his hand and dragging him around, no shame in being interested y’know!

That night, unfortunately, he’s clutching his pillow against his reddening face, scowling at the idea that he wouldn’t mind you dragging him around like that on a date.

#ace trappola x reader #ace x reader #x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #Disney twst #my ass gonna forget all these tags #Doodlebop Writes

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miwiheroes · 15 hours ago

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Dropping Byler Evidence Every (Other) Day Until Season 5

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ Day 25: Mike's Mind was on Will . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

So after a full day of us bylers getting bombarded with asks from this one crashing-out mileven anon DAHSDGKASD I am going to drop this piece of evidence from the final post in the Airport Scene saga :)))

So during the beginning of Season 4 we see that Mike is not being himself which is super strange, and we are angry that he's ignoring Will during the airport scene and the Rink o Mania scene. We think that while Mike and El are 'cute' (eh, they're literally lying to each other but whatever) Will is sad. Then, we find out that Mike was thinking about Will. The whole time.

Mike had noticed that Will was mad at him the whole day, Mike was disappointed that Will had been ignoring him in Rink o Mania and being upset, sure, but there are other times that he is sad at Will ignoring him.

The first is when Mike finds out that the painting must not be for him because Will acts so stand-offish about it. The most notable time however.... is the scene with Mike, El and Will walking through the airport while El is talking about her plans. Mike seems so absent from the conversation, looking around and thinking about something else. He glances at Will a total of:

6 Times

Watch this clip to see it all:

Before I argue about this with people in the asks (ugh) I wanna say that these glances are not accidents. Can you imagine being Finn in this scene and accidentally TURNING HIS HEAD in the same place a total of 6 times??? This is not an easy accident to make. He is extremely good at micro-facial expressions, and this is one of those instances.

This scene is supposed to be subtle and quick, so it makes sense why you would not pick up on it straight away. You are only supposed to pick up on it when you know the information later (that Mike picked up on everything Will did that day).

First off we need to establish that Mike is already feeling nervous about meeting Will because he knows from El's letter that Will could be making a painting for a girl. He hasn't been able to reach Will for months, and it gets confirmed later that Mike was acting so standoffish because he was afraid to lose Will. We see Mike's nerves in the way he asks about the painting -- "what's that?"

Mike is now even more nervous because he gets those worries confirmed when Will doesn't elaborate on the painting even when Mike lets him.

So now that we have established that: I will be talking about every instance he looks at Will during the video above and what it all means -

1. "Wha-- really?"

Will glances at Mike at the same time that he glances. Mike then realises that Will is also glancing at him and they quickly AVERT THEIR GAZES at the same time. This action of 'oop almost got found out' makes Mike also get interrupted in the middle of his word. The way he says "really" as well is high-pitched and nervous after what just happened.

2. "Yeah no I trust you"

Honestly these are so hard to take screenshots of, because you really need to watch it to get the full effect so make sure to just rewatch the part in the video above pls <3

Again, not sure why Mike actually glances at Will in this moment other than just to check on his reaction, showing that he's being so careful with what he's saying and doing around him.

3. "Rink o Mania..."

Another super subtle one, but again it still furthers the argument that Mike was caring about Will's reactions to everything that El is saying more than anything. Maybe he just wants him to get in on the conversation or he's worried that Will's being so quiet -- his mind is still on acting normal though.

4. "Okay, are your friends gonna meet us there?"

This one is the one that inspired me to make this post in the first place. It is perfect.

First of all, El was never insinuating that her friends were going to be there. Mike had never been told by El in a previous letter that they were going to meet up with some friends. SO WHY DOES HE EVEN MENTION FRIENDS??? Obviously, he knows that she has made friends but in the letters, he's heard that Will maybe has as well.

RIGHT AS HE SAYS FRIENDS -- he looks at Will. This is no accidental head turn. This is the directors and writers trying to show you that while Mike may seem to be asking about El here (because he's asking about her friends), he's actually got his mind on Will's friends. The reason he asks is because he wants to confirm or deny the worry that he has about it.

This is literally rehashed later when Mike gets angry at Will ignoring him. He does all of thESE THINGS BECAUSE HE WAS SCARED OF LOSING HIM <3 which he says in the bedroom.

5. After "Friends? What friends?"

This one makes sense because Will's just spoken, although it is a little ambiguous whether Mike is looking at him in this frame above. Watch the video if u really wanna know ig. He's probably just looking for what this means as it's the first thing Will says the whole time.

6. After "Angela?"

It's odd how Mike clearly gets a little weirded out by what Will says here but it's pretty much clear that he has no clue that El has any bad blood with Angela. This is clear from later on, when he completely denies that El has been lying to him, and ignores that El gets taken away by Angela and everyone.

There must be another reason for his strange reaction that clearly catches him off guard. He asked the previous question about friends because he wants to put his worry to rest. BUT He now just found out that Will does have friends (or so he thinks, ofc), which is specifically a girl. El talks about a girl in relation to Will in her letter.

Again, I'm rehashing this point: It gets confirmed that Mike thought he had lost Will. So it totally makes sense why he would be caught off guard here.

THEN EL SAYS:

"I want this day... to be about me and you!"

Perfection. This is supposed to be ironic. Because clearly, Mike is not all thinking about her. He has been glancing at Will the whole scene and El saying this is the best little kicker to end it. Mike barely notices something off with El, he notices everything that Will's doing, nervous about his reactions.

Perfect ending to that scene lmao

#byler #byler nation #byler endgame #mike wheeler #will byers #stranger things #byler evidence #byler proof #miwiheroes daily byler

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butterflywingswrites · 3 days ago

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reposting all my anon fics in one place. enjoy 🤗

(running out of fics, send asks)

revenge sex with caitlin part 2

you made out with caitlin and ran your fingers through her soft hair

“does your boyfriend kiss you like this?”

“no” she whimpered out between kisses “you’re better”

“i’ll show you how much better i can be” you kissed down her neck, biting and leaving marks to show how good you were making her feel. you grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it off over her head. you raised your eyes at caitlin’s lacy bra underneath

“cait were you planning this?”

“well i wore it just in case” she said shyly “i wanted to be pretty for you”

“you’re always pretty” you put your hands under her bra and started massaging her tits, making sure her nipples were getting the attention they clearly weren’t getting before. with your hands still in her bra, you started kissing down her abs. you always loved when she showed off her abs and now you got the privilege to kiss them. you moved your hands out of her bra to pull her pants off

“matching set? damn caitlin you really did plan this” she looked absolutely stunning in her lacy set, but she covered her face as if she were embarrassed

“i just wanted to be prepared” she squeaked out

“babygirl don’t be shy. i love it. you look so sexy. but i want them off now” you tugged her underwear off her hips. you paused for a bit, potentially a second too long

“what’s wrong? do you not want me? we can stop—“

“you’re gorgeous and i want you” it was your turn to cut her off “i’m just thinking about how i want you. do you want my fingers or my tongue?”

“mhmm both” she moaned out. clearly she’s been deprived of the sexual attention she needs

“whatever you want my pretty girl” you rubbed two fingers on her clit, gently testing out how she wanted to be touched. she responded well to that so you continued while moving her bra cup to the side. you placed a gentle kiss on her hard nipple then flicked it with your tongue. caitlin let out a soft whimper

“more” you flicked her nipple with your tongue again

“do you want me to suck on your pretty nipples?” instead of answering, caitlin just pushed your head against her chest. you gently sucked on her nipple while continuing to rub circles on her clit. the sexy moans and whimpers that left her mouth were leaving you soaked. caitlin tugged on your hair aggressively, signaling that she was close

“feels so good don’t stop” her begging turned you on even more. you kept going until she came on your fingers

“that’s it, let go babygirl” you let her ride out her orgasm on your fingers and kissed her

“fuck that was so good” caitlin said breathlessly

“i’m not done with you yet” you kissed her again “i still need to taste you” you moved your head down her body so you could eat her out properly. the way she deserves

you placed her thighs over your shoulders and moaned when you saw how wet she was. you took your time kissing her pretty thighs, enjoying the moment. when you got to her pussy you gave her a slow lick up her entrance

“fuck caitlin”

“what’s wrong? do i not taste good?” caitlin confused your words of pleasure for distaste

“no babygirl. he never tells you, does he? you taste so fucking good. i can’t wait to eat that pretty pussy” you started to lick her slowly, trying to build anticipation for her and savor the taste for yourself

“i need more” caitlin put her hands in your hair and tugged. you quickened your tongue to try and give her what she wanted. the soft moans that left her mouth told you she was getting it. you brought your thumb to her clit, already sensitive from the first orgasm you gave her. when your thumb made contact, her thighs tightened around your head. her moans got louder and you knew she was close. with a loud moan and a tug at your hair, caitlin came on your tongue. you lapped gently at her pussy, cleaning her up while trying to memorize her taste

“i bet he doesn’t make you cum like that” you smirked. caitlin was totally fucked out

“no. he doesn’t make me cum even half as good as that. not even a quarter as good” she admitted

“don’t worry babygirl, i’ll always be here to make you feel good”

#caitlin clark #caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark smut

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fairylights-throughthemist · 3 days ago

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Hellooo

I don’t know if you write for Joel Miller but i had a dream about him!!!

So he was my step dad and i was horny, so i got on his lap and started to grind on his bulge like estatically 😭 and then my head was on the crook of his neck smeling his perfume 😵‍💫

Please could you write something about that, if that’s okay with you ?? 🙏🏼

Wildest Dreams

Joel Miller x Reader

You beautiful angel. Thank you for the request🥹 I didn’t include anything about Joel being readers stepdad but you can totally read it that way if you’d like to!! Personally I just don’t feel comfortable writing something like that yet 🩷

Warnings: smut?, making out, kissing, clothed grinding, implied age gap but no mention, Joel calls reader good girl.

wc: 413

You walked downstairs and see Joel on the couch. He’s sitting there manspreading. How does he look so good while he just sits? You walk into the kitchen and grab yourself something to drink, you then joined Joel on the couch.

“This is so boring.” You told him.

“It’s the news. This is serious stuff.” He said.

A moment of silence passes.

“Are you mad at me?” You asked.

“No, sweetheart I’m not mad at you.” He reassured you.

“Are you sure?”

He just looked at you and redirected his attention to the TV.

You came down here for a reason other than being thirsty. To put it simply, you were horny as fuck. And Joel could help.

”Joel.” You whined

He let out a little grunt that made the wet spot in your panties grow bigger.

“What.” He said with a sharp tone.

Somehow, his slight attitude only made you want him more. You got up from your spot in the couch and straddled him.

“The hell ‘re you doing, girl?”

“I need you, Joel.”

You kissed him and he kissed back. It didn’t take long for you to intrude his mouth with your tongue. He grabbed ahold of your hips as you started to grind on him. You could feel him harden under you. You knew he wanted this. And he knew you needed it.

“Feels so good, Joel.”

“This what ya needed?”

You could only muster out a whiny “mhm” for him.

Because you were so pent up, you already felt an orgasm nearing. You whined and whimpered for him as he gave you small encouraging words. You put your face in the crook of his neck and breathed in his scent. Hints of aftershave, the soap he uses and that indescribable scent of Joel. His scent alone could push you over the edge but what he said after this is what really did it for you.

“Good girl, you’re such a good girl for me, baby.”

This made you twitch in his lap as he guided you through your orgasm.

“You were so good for me, baby.” He said.

You looked at him and the two of you kissed once again. You were still sat on his lap as you began playing with the hair in the back of his head.

You woke up in your bed later that night and you couldn’t help but wonder if Joel carried you up there or if it was just a dream.

#joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #cowboy joel #joel miller x oc #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel miller #the last of us #tlou hbo #tlou #pedro pascal

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nancyheart11 · 1 day ago

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Thanks for the invite Bee! and @skyloftian-nutcase I totally forgot to do this when you tagged me so now i'll do both!

LOVELY

L- “Link? Oh Ordona, what have I done I was holdin’ a torch and then in the bar I-.” after that it dissolved into Rusl shaking and trying his best to hold the tears at bay.

O- Once it was only them and Twilight’s adoptive parents left he felt a familiar nervousness overtake him, but bolstered by the presence of his ancestor and the one member of their group who had known him as Wolfie before Twilight, he pushed on.

V- E(V)entually he knew he was getting somewhere when he saw Wolfie’s dark form ahead of him.

E- Every minute they didn't see a royal blue or glowing teal was a moment of fear, creeping up on them and choking any conversation before it could start.

L- “Look out below!” Twilight looked up, and wished he could be surprised at the sight of a rampaging Ordon goat coming towards them horns first.

Y- “Yeah? Why are y’all looking like that’s something strange?”

and!

LIGHT

L- “Link I told you already, you can’t have more than five hor- IS THAT THE LEGENDARY EPONA!?!”

I- “If Twilight can’t walk it’s going to take both of us to carry him!”

G- “Got it in one, and–” “What’s that?” Wild pointed to Giftari on his shoulder and Four blinked in surprise. Wild had explained that he was considered an adult in his world so Four hadn’t thought of the possibility that he would be able to see the minish.

H- He managed to pry open one watering, burning eye, seeing the Talus was as still as them. Then a blur of black streaked across the ground and over the side of the cliff.

T- They sprinted towards the sound and found Twilight tucked into a little overhang with Warriors pacing besides him, seeming windswept but otherwise unharmed.

wooo! what an excercise!

no pressure tags @musical-chan @bluevaractyl @tashacee @skyward-floored your word is TIRED!

Word Ask Game

Rules: You are given a word - share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that starts with each letter of that word!

Thank you @mistresslrigtar for tagging me 😊 (I love tag games! They're an outlet my tendency to ramble endlessly about things I really love). My word is SWORD! All sentences from the current WIP chapter of On My Honor.

S - Sliding silently inside, he quickly locked the door behind him.

W - "Where are you going so fast?" A hand grabbed Link's shoulder, jerking him to a halt.

O - "Only one way to know for sure," Link said.

R - "Right." They never would, though, Link already knew.

D - Distantly, the clock in the center of town chimed the late hour, and a surge of panic told him he needed to leave, and he needed to leave now, but his feet were fixed to the floor.

As for tagging others, I'm not sure who has already played, but I would love to hear from @poposusz, @silvrash-797, @amelias-zelda-calamity-quintet, or @fan-girls-r-us with the word LOVE (in honor of my love ❤️ for you all!)

#tag game #nan tagged!#nan writes #linked universe #lu twilight #these fics are all about twilight i don't have a problem I swear #also good luck guessing the wip on some of these hehe #thank you Bee!!!

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chosaraki · 2 days ago

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Force Reflexes.

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It was a Thursday afternoon when Gun Park received the call that he knew would end up happening sooner or later. His face closed immediately when he saw the name of the school on the cell phone display. The director's voice was tense, as if he was trying to stay calm, but the situation was out of control.

- Mr. Park, we need you to come to school. Your daughter... Well, she caused a big mess. She's involved in a fight and, well, the boys involved... They're in the hospital.

Gun didn't say a word during the call. He just closed his fist, his gaze fixed on the void while he heard the director's voice talk more about what happened. He knew that his daughter was strong, very strong, but he didn't imagine that the situation would reach this point.

When he arrived at school, he was greeted by the principal and some teachers, who took him to the ward. The situation was exactly what he feared: his daughter, now 12 years old, had been involved in a fight with several high school boys, bigger and stronger than her. However, as always, her strength knew no limits, and the boys were in the hospital, with several broken bones and bruises all over their bodies.

When he entered the detention room where his daughter was waiting, she was sitting quietly, with her arms crossed, as if she didn't care at all about what had happened. Her hair was messy and her school uniform was slightly torn, but she kept the same serious expression, almost indifferent. She didn't seem to care about the seriousness of the situation.

Gun watched her for a few seconds, his eyes sharpening with the weight of responsibility and disappointment.

- You know what you did, don't you? - Gun's voice was low, but the tension was palpable. He didn't want to lose control, but his daughter had exceeded all limits.

She looked up at him, as if she already knew what was coming, and crossed her legs.

- I know. - She answered calmly, without remorse.

Gun got closer to her, now facing her. His daughter's gaze was impassive, but he could see that she was keeping her posture firm, as if she were ready for any confrontation he tried to start.

- Why, huh? - Gun asked, trying to stay calm, but frustration was starting to infiltrate his voice. - Don't you think you exaggerated a little? Look what happened.. They're in the hospital, girl….

His daughter, without moving, just shrugged, as if it were something irrelevant.

- It wasn't my fault. - She replied, with a disinterested tone. - They started. They were just in my way.

Gun was silent for a moment, trying to process her words. He knew that she was not an ordinary child, and that her strength was out of the reach of many. But what he couldn't understand was this total lack of regret. Your daughter didn't feel guilty. She wasn't at all worried about the consequences of what she had done.

Then, she broke the silence again, looking directly at him with a calculating look.

- Mom told me that once you did the same... even worse. - She spoke with a calm that almost made Gun lose his balance.

He stared at her for a moment, surprised by her answer. His mind immediately went to the past, to the times when he himself was younger, more impulsive, and didn't care what happened after his actions. Gun had caused many fights, destroyed enemies and often left others in a critical situation. But what your daughter was saying... was exactly what he did.

- What are you saying? - He asked, the deeper tone of voice now, curiosity mixed with a little shock.

Your daughter was not intimidated. She raised an eyebrow and continued, with the same coldness.

- Mom said you used to fight over anything. That, if someone disrespected you, broke everyone. She said that, once, you almost killed a guy for saying he looked at you wrong. And mom also said you didn't feel sorry.

Gun watched her in silence, and time seemed to stop for a moment. His daughter, only 12 years old, was now making a direct comparison with what he had been in the past. He knew she was right, and that made him reflect for a second. But... she was still a child, and maybe it was too early for her to make these comparisons. He never wanted her to follow the same path, but maybe it was too late for that.

- You... - Gun took a deep breath, feeling the weight of responsibility in his words. - You're right. I've done horrible things in my past. Things I'm not proud of. But you have to understand that...

His daughter interrupted him, her voice calm, but firm.

- I just did what you taught me. If someone challenges me, I'll knock down. That's what you've always done.

Gun shut up, looking at her with a heavy look. It was true. He had taught her to be strong, to fight and not to be intimidated. But... this was going too far. He knew he needed to correct this. He couldn't allow his daughter to follow the same path.

- Are you challenging me now, little one? - He asked with a small but significant laugh.

She looked at him with the same defiant look, and in her mind, there were no more doubts. She had the same strength, the same will and the same determination. Now, all that remained was to know if she would learn to control them before it was too late.

Gun sighed and sat next to her. He knew that the conversation was far from over, but now there was something new that he needed to teach his daughter: how to fight intelligently and responsibly, something he had never known how to do in his youth.

- I don't want you to become what I was. - He said, his voice softer now. - You have much more potential, but you have to learn to use it for good, not to destroy everything around you.

She looked at him, still impassive, but this time, something different shone in her eyes. It wasn't just a challenge. It was understanding.

- I know. - She replied, with a slight smile, as if she had understood more than he imagined. - But... next time, I'll try not to let them go to the hospital.

—————————————————————————

She, with the same indomitable strength that he had in his youth, did not hesitate to defend his position, making him see that he, as a father, was also the origin of this ferocity. But the lesson was not in the words she used, but in the look she threw - challenging, but also full of understanding. Gun knew that the way forward would be arduous, but now, more than ever, he needed to teach her to fight not only with her fists, but with her mind, so that her strength would not lead her to destruction. She, like him, had the power to break, but she still had to learn how to protect what really mattered.

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#lookism imagine #lookism x reader #lookism #lookism x you #anime #fanfic #lookism manhwa #lookism webtoon #looksim #lookism imagines #gun park x reader #gun park

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avatarloverfrfr · 3 days ago

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Carbon Copy

Neytiri x daughetr!Reader; Jake x daughter!Reader; Sully Family x Child!Reader

Chapter 1: The Birth of Y/n.

Masterlist

Previous: [prologue]

Summary:Despite leaving their homeland, Y/n holds onto her mother's values. However, tragedy strikes with Neteyam's death, shattering Y/n's innocence and sparking a raging fury within her, forever changing her carefree spirit

But the most dangerous thing about Pandora, is that you may grow to love her too much. We sing the songcords to remember. Each bead, a story in our life. A bead for the birth of our son, Neteyam. A bead for when we adopted our daughter, Kiri. Born of Grace's avatar. A daughter whose conception is a total mystery. A bead for the first communion with Eywa.

The people say, "We live in Eywa, and Eywa lives in us." The great mother holds all her children in her heart.

Neytiri POV

"Breathe ma'ite. You are almost there." Mo'at says as she kneels on the woven mat next to me, her presence strong and encouraging. The fire lit near us flickering across her face, her golden eyes fierce yet tender as she presses a firm hand against my belly, guiding me with her knowledge.

Jake is beside me, his hands gripping mine, his breath uneven, whispering reassuring words in between my groans that escape my lips.

"I'm right here. I've got you."

The elder women of the clan surround us, their voices a gentle hum, their hands soothing against my skin. They've all done this before-- brought life into this before, felt the same fire. I am not alone.

The pain does not care about my thoughts. It consumes me, raw and unyielding as my body trembles. A guttural cry rips from my throat then--

A cry.

High and piercing, fragile and alive.

My chest heaves as I collapse back against Jake, my body shaking, exhausted-- but my heart races for a different reason now. The world slows, my ears ring. Suddenly Mo'at lifts her up so I could see her.

Tiny. Blue and soft. The room goes still as she takes her first breath, her small cries filling the kelku around us like a song.

Mo'at brings her toward my arms, my body moves before my mind can catch up. My hands, still trembling reach for her, pulling her close to my chest. ma'Y/n. My daughter.

"ma'ite..." I whisper as I tune out everyone else and put all my focus on Y/n. Breathing in her scent.

I press my lips to her damp forehead, my tears mixing with the warmth of her skin. She nuzzles into me, her tiny face pressing against my collarbone, her breathing uneven but there. I stare down at her-- the curve of her nose, the shape of her lips, the softness of her ears. She is mine. She is me.

Beside me, Jake lets out a shaky breath, his eyes wide, mouth slightly parted in awe. His hands tremble as they trace the side of her little face. "She's perfect," he whispers, voice raw thick with emotion. Something that the Olo'eyktan doesn't show often.

Then I see it. Her fingers curl against my skin- four small, perfect fingers. Four toes.

Like me.

Like Neteyam.

Tears blur my vision as I cradle her closer, pressing my forehead to hers. She whimpers, her little body shifting in my arms, searching for warmth. My heart swells so much I fear it may burst.

"Oel ngati kameie." I whisper, my voice cracking as I see her-- not just with my eyes, but with my soul.

She stirs, pressing her tiny nose against my skin, nuzzling into me as if she already knows. As though Eywa brought me a a friend that I've known for my whole life.

I laugh-- soft, breathless, overwhelmed with love.

Jake presses a kiss to my temple, his hand cradling both me and our daughter. The warmth of the room, the voices of the people, the heartbeat of the world around us, it all fades. In this moment, it is just us.

Just me and ma'Y/n.

The flap of the kelku rustles and I hear the patter of small feet.

"Sa'nok! Is she here?" Neteyam's voice is high and excited, filled with energy only a five year old can have.

I lift my head as my eldest son runs in, his eyes wide with wonder. Behind him, Kiri and Lo'ak stumble in, their little faces filled with curiosity.

"Come," Mo'at beckons softly, as I shift Y/n in my arms.

Neteyam reaches me first, his big golden eyes locked onto the tiny bundle in my arms. He crouches besides me, his small fingers reaching out hesitantly as he whispers.

"She looks just like you, sa'nok," he said smiling at me, tracing his finger over her cheek. His tail flicking behind him, his ears twitching with excitement.

Kiri steps closer, peering over my arm, her little hands clasp together. "She is so small... like Lo'ak." she whispers with a small as Lo'ak lets out a annoyed huff. Then her eyes flick to Y/n's hands, and her brows furrow. "She has four fingers too, like you and 'Teyam."

Lo'ak curiously squeezes in between them, peering at his new sister. "Why does she have four fingers, but me and Kiri has five?" he asks inoccently tilting his head. "Is she like sempu?"

Jake chuckles from beside me, ruffling Lo'ak's braids. "You and Kiri are like me, and Neteyam and Y/n are like your sa'nok.

Neteyam beams with pride, puffing out his tiny chest, "That means she's like me!" He grins, looking down at Y/n with even more excitement. "She's my tsmukU!"

I watch as my children take turns touching Y/n's tiny hands, whispering soft greeting to her, welcoming her into our world. My heart swells at the sight-- my family, all together, surrounding this little life Eywa has blessed us with.

Kiri rests her head against my arm, staring at her new sister with quiet admiration. "She looks just like you, sa'nok." she murmurs, her voice soft with wonder. "She has your face."

I smile, brushing my fingers over Y/n's cheek. "She is a gift from Eywa."

Lo'ak giggles suddenly, leaning in close to his sister. "She's so tiny!" He pokes at her little toes, making her stir slightly in my arms. "I think she likes me already."

Neteyam huffs, crossing his arms. "She likes me more." he insists, his tail flicking as he stares down at her protectively. "I will always protect her."

My heart clenches at the twos words, at the love in their young voices.

"She will need all of you," I say gently, looking at each of my children. "She will need her brothers and her sister. You must always be there for her, always keep her safe."

Jake reaches over, wrapping an arm around all of them. "We will." he says, "She is a Sully. Sully's stick together."

My eyes fall to Y/n, still pressed against my chest, her small body rising and falling with each breath. She is so peaceful, so perfect. A gift from Eywa herself.

"Ma'ite," I whisper. "You are home."

Chapter 2: Demons.

hey yall im so sorry, all these promises of updating but i dont. Well.. Sully Siblings will definitely be next, i think😛

Taglist:

@neytirismissingtoe , @ikeyniofthetayrangi ; @fluorynn

#avatar 2009 #avatar #omatikaya #avatar x reader #jake sully #neytiri #avatar2022 #avatar the way of water #avatar angst #neteyam #avatar twow

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