#it lines up so stupidly well

[chasing-faith-and-fate]

Moon 37

Moon 36 bonus | Moon 38

[souenkun]

I loooove the jp fandom's headcanon that geeta and larry are childhood friends who met during their time in the academy and, sometime in the future, geeta personally recruited larry to work for the paldean pokemon league, as she must be one of the first people who knew of his prowess in pokemon battling! Like yeah, the whole geeta being a "strict boss who is frustrated by larry's stubborn insistence to be an average worker that she has to assign him different workloads just to broaden his horizon" idea is intriguing, but stepping it up a notch by making geeta be the "best friend a.k.a the only one who has seen larry at his very best and his very worst, and knows for a fact that he could excel at anything he put his mind into if he steps out of his comfort zone, so she doesn't particularly drag him out of said zone, but pushes him out of it each time she can because she can't bear to see her best friend be unaware of the good chances and positive things that awaits him out there, not if she has a (small) say in it" is also downright hilarious 😭🤚

[heavenbarnes]

I used to date an older guy (like mid 40s) a few years back and I always got stupidly turned on when he fixed stuff around his house?? Like, he just knew hot to do it and did it. No googling, just him and his tools. Feel like it would fit somewhere in your older bf Simon stuff.

god love a fully capable “fuck it i’ll do it” type of man 🫶🏼

you know that your older bf!simon doesn’t believe in hiring tradespeople for a service.

“why would i pay someone to fuck about in my home?”

“they’re not fucking about, si! they’d be fixing the sink”

“i’ll do it”

you have no doubt that simon was more than capable of fixing things around the house but you also wanted him relaxing when he was home.

turns out he couldn’t relax at the thought of another man doing something for you.

so you let him do it, you threw your hands up and waved your white tea towel in defeat as you heard him banging around in the garage for tools.

hearing the faint sounds of grunting and the occasional swear word coming from the bathroom, you thought it might pay to go and see how he was getting on.

fucking hell.

simon was on his back, arms stretched up above him as his hands dwarfed the pipe they were wrapped around. t-shirt riding up, lines of his stomach leading right to his belt, knees bent and boots firmly planted on the floor, you could honestly just-

“oi, you gonna’ stare or help me?”

now how the fuck?

“your heads in the cupboard, how did you know-“

“i always know where you are, pass me the wrench”

crouching down beside him, you handed it over and stayed down there to watch him work. scarred knuckles wrapped around the handle of the tool, other palm flat against the base of the sink so you could see the veins.

he was something else entirely.

“how d’you know how to do all this?”

“taught m’self, come hold this”

you reached over to replace where his palm was so he could have both hands back. “but why? surely other people don’t learn all this?”

“other people don’t care about their sweet’art not having to lift a finger- move your finger for me”

the more you stretched to hold the sink, the more you felt yourself losing traction with it. naturally, simon noticed before you did.

“y’need to get closer, cm’ere”

tools landing to the side of him, two large hands plucked you up till you were dropped in his lap. precarious situation but you couldn’t deny the sink was a lot easier to reach.

you stayed like that, letting simon work in peace as you enjoyed your view. honestly, he could invite you to the end of the world and you’d just be happy to hold his hand.

one hand splayed out on his chest, the other holding the sink, you suddenly felt a tickle forming at the end of your nose. before you knew it, you were pulling your hand back to scratch it- the one holding the sink.

you panicked, realising it could very well land on simon’s head. but it didn’t, it stayed completely still. face screwing up, you leant in again to give the sink a nudge only to find out it was totally fixed.

“what the hell, si? why’d you have me doing all that?”

you saw the smirk on his face as he flashed a look over at you. suddenly, you realised you weren’t the only one enjoying the view.

the hand that didn’t have the wrench came out to give you a pat on the side of your hip.

“c’mon sweet’art, i can’t get anything outta’ this?”

[tonycries]

Freak On The Cam! - C.K.

Synopsis. Choso always loved watching you - his pretty lil’ camgírl - from behind the screen. Who knew he’d love being on-screen with you even more?

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, camgírl! reader, spítting, Choso has rings and piercings, first times + loss of vírginity (Choso’s), oral (fem receiving), exhíbitionism, DOWN BAD Choso, cúmplay, use of “ma’am”, Sukuna is a menace, víbrators, light jealousy (Choso’s), some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 6.5k

A/N. Meant to post this last week but hehe here we are. Also I’ve GOT to stop using Unc-kuna so much lmao.

“Wanna see a movie or do you wanna make one?”

Choso was screwed. Completely and utterly screwed. So badly, in fact, that he might as well just wipe off every trace of himself online and go into hiding - preferably forever.

All because he had been so stupidly careless as to leave his phone unattended for exactly 1 minute and 47 seconds around Sukuna. 

In the time it took Choso to raid the kitchen for his favorite brand of cereal, his uncle had managed to open his Twitter (because “that’s where all the juicy stuff is”), stalk your pretty page at the very top of his last searched, and send a god-awful pick-up line that would probably get him blocked. Or worse.

Damnit, he knew he shouldn’t have made his password Yuji’s birthday.

“Ya should be thankful I didn’t DM her myself, brat.” Sukuna chuckles, not even a shred of regret in his tone, way too amused with how Choso was frantically trying to tackle the phone out of his hands. “What’s the harm in asking? Such a pretty camgirl, n’ you look like you need some good pu-”

“She’s also my classmate.”

“Kinky. Even better.” 

No, not “even better”. God, this must be some kind of cosmic joke, and Choso just wished the Earth would swallow him up whole right now - and maybe his phone along with it too. 

It had taken him almost a whole semester to work up the courage to just sit next to you during your shared lecture. All gorgeous with your bright smiles, and your smart mouth. And Choso was very much content to admire you from afar - and from behind his phone screen, of course.

Never following, never liking. Never tipping you off as one of your hundreds of thousands of fans.

And now, not only had Sukuna revealed that he’d found your secret Twitter account - the one with those sinful little clips of yourself that had Choso opening the app way too much - he’d also propositioned you. Like some creep.  

“Ugh. This is why women hate you.” Still desperately grappling, he spits out more to himself than Sukuna at this point. “B-besides, she’s never even gonna respond any-”

Ping!

And the Itadori household had never been quieter. Never, on a random Saturday during spring break. Never, as the two men crowd the phone, jaws dropped and staring wordlessly at the singular message on screen. You. 

“Let’s make one ;)”

---

“So s’not a stream this time, jus’ a video. Is that okay?”  You hum from your desk, glancing at the man seated on your bed as he hastily nods along with whatever you said. Looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here. 

Weird. 

It had only been a few days of back and forth since you’d gotten that first text - the one that you’d honestly thought about blocking like the thousands of others. But there was just something about it that made you stop, something that had you clicking on the profile to delve a little deeper.

It hit you like a semi-truck back then - five of them, in fact - that this was someone in your class. Someone you knew. How the hell did he even find this account? 

You knew Choso as that sweet - albeit slightly gloomy - kid that sat next to you, always quick with his answers and even quicker to look away from your gaze, no matter how hard you tried to spark a conversation. You’d just guessed he was afraid of you or something.

So nothing could’ve prepared you for how ridiculously attractive he looked in that profile picture, all smug grins and dark locks falling effortlessly around his slightly smudged eyeliner. Shirtless, giving just a peak of- oh god, were those nipple piercings?  

Could you really be blamed? You just had to have him.

But, here - it was like he was just itching to run away at the first chance he got. 

“You’re not held at gunpoint, y’know.” you giggle at how he startles at the mere sound of your voice. The mattress dips as you stop fiddling with the camera to sit next to him, thighs flush against his muscled ones. “Are you sure you want-”

“Yes.” 

It seems that both of you were surprised by the abrupt response. Too quick. Choso clears his throat, cheeks flaring as he tries to dredge up some semblance of dignity, he drawls lightly. “I mean- Yes.”

You study him for a moment under the dim lighting, noting the way his hands clench and unclench in his lap, the way his chest rises and falls rapidly as he struggles to control his breathing. He was nervous. Nervous and horny - nothing quite like the suave impression his pick-up line gave off. 

But so irresistible just the same.

“Well…Cho.” you bat your lashes, voice dropping to a seductive whisper - not too heavy, for now at least. “Then why won’t you even look at me?”

Alas, Choso was not a strong man. 

Maybe at your words, maybe at that playful little nickname you gave him, he’s finally raising those dark eyes to look at you. Twinkling with- fear? anticipation? A flicker of something so dangerous as his gaze sweeps greedily over that tight dress you put on just for this occasion. 

Choso tries to ignore how sinfully it hugs all your curves. Or the way it would look a million times better on the floor. 

This was absolute torture. 

And God he thinks he could pass out right then and there as you lean in closer. Too close. The temperature in the room suddenly increasing by about 10 degrees as you purr, tone careful and balanced. “Much better. And now…” 

His breathing becomes heavier, eyes flickering downwards. Once. Twice. 

And you know you’ve got him in the palm of your hand. 

“...all you gotta do is touch me.”

Yeah, if Choso thought he was going to pass out before then he definitely wasn’t ready for those dangerous little words. Ones that have him shaken right to the core - fighting that urge to just take you how he’s imagined all those lonely nights.

“You- huh?” he lets out a shaky laugh, the sound strained as he crosses his legs with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, desperately trying to will away the blood rushing straight to his throbbing cock right now. 

But how could he? Not when you only shift closer, barely even a hair’s breadth between you two - relishing in his strangled gasp as your tits press so enticingly against his arm. Such an adorable pout playing on your lips as you mutter, “Do you not want to?”

And he did. Oh, how he did - has been imagining it for the past five months, in fact. And Choso lets you know, a little twenty times, actually, as the words spill panickedly from his lips. 

“-idiot trying to set me up and I’ve been dreaming of fucking you for so long but I’m just-” Heat rushes to Choso’s cheeks, as he abruptly shuts the fuck up. But it’s too late - the damage has been done.

You give him a wry smile, lips mere inches from his ear. “Just what?”

His breath hitches, muscles rippling so deliciously as he shudders beneath your touch. “I’m a-” Choking out - as if it physically hurts to  admit - “-virgin.”

Oh. 

Now, you might’ve expected many things - but certainly not this. Though, looking at the cute flush on the tips of his ears, all the way down to those big, needy eyes, you don’t mind. Not one bit.

With one, quick glance at the rolling camera - your mouth is moving before your mind. “Do you want me to…do something about it?”

And then it’s like something snapped. 

You don’t know who leans in first, just that Choso’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him - how could you not? 

Because goddammit it was always those pretty lips that you were staring at whenever he was spouting off answers in class. You just never expected he’d be kissing you back with such an infectious desperation. 

No sooner are you thinking about how sweet his lips are before he’s pulling away with a soft sigh, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses down your jaw. Your neck. Back to your lips like he wanted everything and anything.

You gasp licks a long, languid stripe up your neck - maybe at how utterly obscene it felt, maybe at that sharp cold feeling that makes you flinch. Fuck - a tongue piercing? The noise makes Choso’s mouth drop into a quick oh! surging forward to claim your lips again. Addicted. 

Only to be stopped by your hands cupping his face, letting out a pained grunt at how he was so close. Just a hair’s breadth away from your lips.

“Cho~ Open your mouth, baby.” you whisper, hotly. 

And he looked so pretty - dark hair askew, lower lip swollen and quivering with need, brows furrowing because he wanted more of your taste. But he obeys, of course he does, Choso thinks he’ll do anything you asked. And lo and behold, sitting right there in the middle of his tongue was a pretty silver piercing.

You just can’t help but thumb open his mouth further, looking him right in the eyes as you spit in his mouth. Once. Twice. 

“Bet no one else has done this before, huh?” Grinning at how sinfully Choso’s eyes roll to the back of his head at your taste, “Kiss me proper now.”

God, you were so good at throwing away whatever was left of his poor sanity. And it’s all that’s said before his kiss-bitten lips are crashing into yours again. 

“No. No one’s hah- done that before. Only you.” he’s panting into your open mouth, swirling his tongue with yours. “F-fuck only you. Only you only you-”

You barely even realize the way you’re on his lap now, sitting so prettily there that Choso half-deliriously wonders whether he should take a picture. Mind spinning too much with his throbbing erection under your drenched panties, a damp little patch at his fat tip. So hot and heavy already.

“Cho, do you want me to-”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You certainly don’t have to be told twice - especially with that little nickname. Fiddling with his belt, you’re so hazy with want - the need to taste Choso, to see if the rest of him was as sweet as his lips - that you almost miss the look of confusion that flashes across his face.

You bat your lashes at him almost-innocently, “You alright?” And Choso thinks he could cum right there and right now at the sight. If he wasn’t currently battling for his life, that is. 

“Yeah, s’jus’- what I wanted hah- was to…” His hands sneak down, cupping your heated pussy through your drenched panties. “-taste her. ”

“Oh?”

“Are y’gonna teach me how?”

Oh. Fuck.

You know you’re fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.

Only moments later, Choso’s wrestling you back onto the mattress, face-to-face with your sloppy pussy. So mean with the way he was pinning your hips down with one hand, all but ripping your panties off with the other. 

You feel his piercing before his tongue. Both the hot and cold so maddening on your cunt as Choso licks long, lazy stripes up your puffy folds - dragging his hot tongue all the way from your base. Just grazing your swollen clit. 

“Teach me- fuck fuck-” words muffled and slurring together, vibrations going straight to your pussy. “Use me. Use me how you want.”

You’re threading your fingers through his dark locks before you even realize it, grinding your sloppy cunt all over his waiting mouth. “Quirk your tongue like- ngh-” Angling him close enough so he bullies his soft tongue into your tight pussy. Piercing massaging all the right places. “Fuck-”

“Like this?”

“Sh-shit,” you gasp, nodding deliriously. “S’too ngh- good.”

And by God, did you mean it. 

“Yeah? Y’like this?” he’s groaning, wrapping his lips around your swollen clit. “Can feel you clenching around me. Shit shit shit, you love this, huh? So slutty on camera for it?” 

Getting wetter and wetter by the second as his tongue roams for that one-

“Oh! F-fuck, Cho. Right hngh- there. Deeper-”

Ah, found it.

Choso grins as you tug on his soft strands, you can feel it on your throbbing pussy. Pushing your legs all the way till they’re at your tits to hit that little spot each and every time. Again and again. Eyes glassy, torn between devouring that slutty expression on your face and how fucking drenched you were. 

“Shit, baby,” his words are so strained now, like his sanity was dancing away at each flick of his tongue. “You’re drooling everywhere. See? Show the camera now.”

You don’t have to look. Because you can feel it.

Can feel how wet his mouth is, just glistening with slick and saliva. Trailing all the way down his chin - to his wrist - only second to how sloppy your dripping cunt was. It was like he was getting messy on purpose, like a little reminder to himself that shit this was you and he was eating out your pretty cunt to insanity-

“Oh my god, think m’hooked.” Tongue dragging all over your swollen folds, catching on his piercing. “Think your pretty lil’ pussy’s hah- driving me crazy. Ruined me, Fuck-”

And it’s so embarrassing how he’s talking you through it, grinning at every lil’ whine and whimper that leaves your mouth. You were acting all shy right now in a way that makes Choso’s cock twitch so painfully. He barely even notices, though, with the way he was so drunk off your pussy. 

So messy - unable to decide between rolling his tongue over your ravaged clit and dipping into your sloppy hole. Too much. In and out in and-

“Faster.”

He goes faster. 

“H-harder.”

He goes harder.

Anything and everything for you - to keep those pretty moans falling from your lips, walls getting tighter and tighter around his tongue. And Choso might just consider himself a man addicted.

“Can you ngh- cum f’me, baby?” You flinch as he spits out the words into your cunt. Harsh. Fucked-out. Sounding just as delirious and breathless as you. “Cum f’me please. Wan’ to taste y’on my tongue. Please. Fuck- need it so bad. So bad.”

You’re so caught up in Choso’s pussydrunk little babbles that you barely even realize when you’re cumming. Just that you’re letting out a strangled scream of his name, dragging your sloppy pussy all over his mouth. 

And he has never seemed more blissed out. Long gone is that nervous little expression usually on his face around you, Choso looked like he could be suffocated in-between your legs right now and love it. Hope for it, even.

He tells you that, of course. As soon as you’re blinking back your vision, blood still roaring in your ears. Delicate strings of slick snapping where he parts from your quivering cunt, lips swollen and glossed so prettily with your sweet sweet juices. 

“Baby, y’think the video of lesson one came out good?”

Oh. Shit, what have you done?

---

That certainly wasn’t the last time you saw Choso - or the last time you had him in front of a camera, either.

A few weeks later, you found yourself with an entire album for the man - a hidden treasure trove under the simple name of “Cho <3”. Most of the videos favorited, all sorted so tediously in a way that showed you spent an obscene amount of time looking at all the ways he ruined you. 

So filthy on camera that you always wondered whether it was the same person in the sheets and in class, texting Choso for later. Just to confirm. 

But embarrassingly, only some of these videos made their way onto your Twitter account - with Choso’s pretty face largely out of the frame. The two of you hadn’t ventured into streams yet either, opting to hide him away. Because, okay, maybe you were slightly jealous of other people seeing him - but it was really hard not to be when he looked like that.

In spite of all that, you’d still gained a casual hundred thousand more followers since his appearance - ones who always commented on your solo streams asking where your “hot emo bf” was.

Comments you’d pointedly ignore, because, hell, you wished he was here on-stream helping you get off, too. Yet despite the endless flirting and videos, Choso actually hadn’t made it further than actually holding a full conversation with you. And you wanted more. 

For all you know, you might just be one of his many trysts - and it was just for the videos, right? You get the content, he gets the experience? A win-win situation, so why have you never felt more like such a loser?

Such a loser the way you’ve already lost count of the “lessons” but still haven’t gotten to feel him - to fuck him the way you wanted just yet. 

“S’alright if I take this, right, ma’am?” He smirks during one such session, knuckle-deep in your dripping cunt. Dangling your drenched panties like a badge of honor, flimsy and soaked with your sweet sweet juices. “S’alright if I-” And he can’t even finish the sentence. Your jaw drops as Choso raises the thin fabric to his face, breathing in your essence like a man possessed. 

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“You’re so filthy, Cho-” you manage to choke out once you find your voice. Squirming on his bed like such a slut for him. “Was the innocent thing just an act?”

“Nope.” he pops the p, licking lewd little circles on your neck, thumbing open your puffy folds to watch in amazement at the way you glisten and clamp around his fingers. Eyes flickering briefly to the recording phone in his hand. “But we gotta give ‘em a good show, huh?”

Right, you’d forgotten about the camera. But none of that matters anyway because-

Intensity setting 2.

“You’re so mean, too.”

“Am I?” he grins, teeth grazing along your racing pulse. “I think you taught that to me, baby. Shit, lesson 8 it was?”

God, he was addictive.

Choso’s having way too much fun playing around with the intensity setting of the bullet vibrator shoved inside your ravaged cunt. Sending quick, methodical vibrations all along your pulsing clit. In time with the breathless moans leaving your kiss-bitten lips, and it’s all you can to call out for- more? Mercy? Both? 

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“God, you’re so perfect. Shit, so messy f’me.” he groans, and you could tell that the video wasn’t going to be uploaded anyway. Too shaky, focusing in and out of Choso’s fingers. Knuckle-deep and pumping in and out of your filthy hole. Relentless. “Almost makes me wanna show off to an actual audience.”

“Maybe I want to, too.” you muse, shifting at his heated gaze. Dangerously pressing your thumb over those nipple piercings you’ve gotten to know so well lately - as if to support your point. God you wish he’d take off that snug shirt.

Intensity setting 3.

“That so?”

And no matter how many times Choso’s ruined you on camera - and watched the videos over and over afterwards - he always thought they weren’t enough to capture your perfection. 

“Such a slut f’me, baby.” To capture the exact moment in which your wet lips fall into a soft little oh! when he massages your walls in time with the pulsing vibrator. To capture that absolutely sinfully excited little glint in your eyes as he ruts his clothed erection against your pussy. “Y’always this dirty?” Quickly turning into a look of slight panic at the sudden jingle of keys from the front door. 

“Yo, brat. Where the fuck are ya?”

Ah, there he was, the reason that Choso usually locked his bedroom door whenever you were over, even if he was home alone. 

Intensity setting 4.

As the silence continues, so does Choso’s abuse on your cunt. In fact, he only gets more erratic - like he wanted you to cum. Needed you to cum right now, right here in front of Sukuna, footsteps only growing louder. Nearer.

“Cho-” you fight to get out the words. “He’s hah-.”

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“Can’t speak? That’s cute.” he coos, voice way too relaxed for someone whose mind was reeling with the realization that he couldn’t remember if he locked the door this time, and how adorable you sounded. Enough so that it made some raw, primal part of him wanna pull down his pants and fuck you right here right now. Cockblocks and his own virginity be damned. “C’mon now, use your words like a good girl. Tell the camera.”

Cocky bastard.

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“Close!” you yelp, unsure of whether you were talking about yourself or the looming Sukuna. Jaw slack, tears springing into your ears as you look up at Choso. “So close.”

God, you were addictive. And this video was definitely going in both your favorites.

“Mhm,” he hums, movements getting hastier. More desperate. “I know, ma’am.”

Intensity setting 5.

That’s all that it takes for you to cum, letting out a loud strangled moan of Choso’s name. Or, you would’ve - if it hadn’t been for the way he’s shoving two, thick fingers into your mouth.

Silencing you - and in your hazy brain you think that if this was his way of shutting you up, then you really didn’t mind. Because all you could taste was you and the cold, cold metal of his rings. Somewhat intoxicating.

“Shhhhhh.” he’s breathing out, still mindlessly grinding his hips into yours. Though, you realize with a pang that today won’t be the day you get to feel that achingly hard erection straining his pants. “These pretty moans aren’t for him, hm?”

Pressing on the back of your tongue, smirking at the way you nod tearily up at him, moans still muffled. Hell, do you even know how sexy you’re being right now.

“Mhm, all f’me. All for fuckin’ me.”

Knock! Knock! Knock! 

“Why the fuck are you locked up in here on a Saturday night?” Sukuna sounds impatient, but not surprised. Probably imagining all sorts of dorky things his nephew was doing to hole himself up in his room. “Come out n’ get this takeout- what’s left of it anyways.”

And with that, it’s like the magic is over.

Your high only just bating before Choso’s hurriedly ending the recording on a hazy still of your disappointed pout, cursing Sukuna for his impeccable timing. 

Slightly concerned about the door being broken down and someone else seeing you in all your fucked-out glory, he hastily moves to grab the spare cloth by his bedside. Cleaning you up with hushed promises of “sending the recording later”, and “s’alright, he’ll be gone soon.”

Close. You were so close.

A win-win situation - but you’ve never felt like more of a loser.

---

“By God, I never thought he’d get the balls to do it.”

You yelp in surprise at the deep voice from behind you, whirling with a defiant brandish of Choso’s (your?) keys. He’d given them to you a few lessons ago, saying it would make it easier for you to come and go from his apartment as you pleased. Which - to you - felt dangerously like something a boyfriend would say-

But that wasn’t important right now.

What was important was the older man suddenly towering over you right outside Choso’s front door. Big arms crossed over his chest, that leering smirk clashing with his pink hair. “I knew it was odd that brat had a pair of heels by the door.”

Shit. Sukuna.

Ryomen awfully-wingman-his-nephew Sukuna.

“Spill.” At your confused head tilt, he plows on. “Spill the tea. I need new blackmail on my lil’ nephew. How badly did he have to beg you to go out with him?”

You don’t know what was more bizarre - what he was saying or the way he actually pulls out his Notes app as if hanging on to your every word. 

“I-It’s because of you.” you manage to choke out, unsure of what Choso has told his family about you.  Eyes flitting between him and the door right behind you, sounding your very best not to sound just as guilty as you felt. “You’re the reason we have this weird…thing.”

A beat of silence passes. One. Two. 

And just as you’re beginning to wonder whether you’ve broken Choso’s infamous uncle, he throws his head back and laughs. Laughs, right in your face, sounding like he’d just heard the funniest punchline in the world. 

“Oh that’s hilarious.” he exclaims, wiping a mock tear. Cackles dying down as if he was suddenly aware that maybe Choso would hear and walk in on this impromptu interrogation. “Damn, that awful pick-up line is why you started fuckin’? I thought it’d get that sap blocked so he’d stop stalking your account so much.”

“No, we…” you hesitate, mind reeling with what Sukuna just admitted, and how bad it would really be that you’re divulging your sex life to a relative of the guy you’re fucking. Before thinking fuck it, might as well confide in someone. “...we’re just doing stuff for-” putting up air quotes. “-content.”

“Just content?”

“Just content.”

“And you like that fool?”

Your face burns at how glaringly obvious it apparently was, “...Yes.”

This seemingly sets Sukuna off on another wave of uncontrollable laughter. “Ohh, thanks for the blackmail on that emotionally-constipated brat.” Typing away on what you assume to be his Notes, he promptly turns to walk away, “See ya around, doll.”

“Wait!” you call after in confusion, making him stop and raise a brow. “Aren’t you supposed to like- I don’t know, give me advice for your nephew or something - like a good uncle?”

Scoffing, “Who said I was a good uncle?” He leans in ever-so-slightly, “Jus’ rock his world on camera or somethin’ n’ ask him out right in the middle.” Satisfied with being enough of a decent samaritan for today, he walks back with a half-wave, “He’d listen to whatever you say anyway.”

Oh. Is that so?

And Sukuna probably meant it as some joke. Something to tease the both of you with - but it’s something that sets the gears going off inside your head. Something that had you ignoring Sukuna’s slightly panicked, “Jus’ not too soon, I needa bully him with this first.”

---

You didn’t listen to Sukuna’s little plea, of course. Because only a few days later you’d steeled yourself to finally send that one text you knew would change your relationship with Choso. For the good, hopefully. 

You: 9pm my place. Get ready, cuz this time we’re gonna be live ;)

Cho <3: :0 

And with that, you’d thrown your phone on the bed, jittery about later tonight. Browsing through your wardrobe for that one set of barely-there lingerie in his favorite shade of pink. Hey, you could never be too prepared, right?

Nothing could’ve prepared Choso for this moment - absolutely nothing at all. 

He might’ve just died and gone to heaven the very moment he read that dangerous text - finally inviting him to join one of your streams. The ones that he’d always watch in the safety of his bedroom, lights dimmed, pants bunched around his ankles. 

Cock just achingly hard in his fist while he wished he was with you behind the camera. Getting you off so much better than any sextoy would. Just forcing those pretty moans from your lips - and everyone else could see that. Wish it was them ruining you instead. 

Alas, it was only a dirty little fantasy. 

Until now, that is.

slvt4u: Holy shit boyfriend reveal, about time.

uniwhore: THIS is the hottie from Twitter????? 

itsgenslut: idfc just fuck

“Nervous?” you smirk, looking down at the man sprawled so prettily on your bed. “You look just as close to an aneurysm as you were the first time. Though-” snaking your hand down, “-this is still the same as ever.”

You chuckle at the way Choso catches your lips with his, more to shut up those pathetic little moans threatening to escape him than anything. Because every glance at you in that sinful little pink bra gave Choso a mini heart attack. 

“B-baby-” he gasps, grinding his clothed erection against your palms. “I wan- hah-”

“Mhm?”

And God how you’ve ruined Choso - run him so utterly dry of his sanity.

Because he’s angling your head down, piercing cold against your tongue. “Spit.”

It was like that first time had gotten him addicted. So you do - right into his waiting mouth. Jaw dropping at the way he tips his head back, back, back to let it slide so obscenely down his throat. Moaning at just a taste of you, “God, I need to f-fucking ruin you.”

And if there’s anything you’ve learned after all these months with Choso, it’s that anything he says - he does.

The words have barely left his mouth before he’s pulling your bra off, ripping your panties easily off your hips. Each and every little regret about what a shame it was thrown out the window at the first sight of your pretty pussy. 

It never gets old - and Choso could never get enough of the sinful sight - your cunt so sloppy and ready for him already. 

“Cho-” you whine as ringed fingertips coming up to circle your sloppy entrance. Cold. Stretching you to insanity. “S-stop teasing.”

“Yes, ma’am. But first-” shifting you around ever-so-slightly on top of him. “Gotta show off how wet y’are f’me.”

uniwhore: did he just call her “ma’am”?? Me when??

roses101: idk who i wanna be they’re both so fucking hot ugh

“Fuck, y’look so sexy from this angle. Wonder if the camera thinks so too?”

Your face slightly burns at how he was seemingly taking over your own stream. Smug bastard, you think, glancing down at Choso, red-faced, hair untied, wearing a sly grin as his eyes slide over the flurry of comments. But two can play that game. 

“Cho~” fumbling with the hem of his underwear, “You’ve been holding out on me.”

A gasp leaves you involuntarily as you tug down Choso’s boxers just enough for his throbbing cock to spring free, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Blushed your favorite shade of pink - to match your bra - so so angry and soaked in precum. 

He was so intimidatingly long - longer than any of those toys you usually brought on camera. Thick enough that it had you wondering, shit, would you even be able to take it?

“S’this a-alright?” and for all his previous confidence, Choso sounded self-conscious. Peeking at you through his long lashes.

You grin, pumping a hand up and down his swollen cock, letting his precum drip down your wrist. “S’perfect.”

“God- fuck, baby. Oh-” Choso lets out breathless little profanities as you straddle his waist, dragging his weeping tip down your swollen folds. So fucking filthy as you sink down in by fucking in. Slowly. “Too- much-”

Apparently too slow because no sooner have you just taken in his fat tip, squeezing and clenching around him, that Choso’s flipping the both of you over. 

“M’sorry.” he breathes into your mouth as your back hits the mattress. “M’sorry m’sorry, fuck- just can’t-” fingers immediately drawing frenzied little circles on your pulsing clit to take your mind off the dizzying stretch as he bullies his massive cock into your snug cunt. “Can’t wait can’t wait- waited too fucking long. Want this so badly-”

You felt too good. Too perfect around him. 

“Ah! Hngh- Cho, oh my god. Too- ngh-” you moan, as he starts grinding in shallow, mindless little movements just to fit himself inside. Pushing and pushing, you wondered if he even realized what he was doing.

Sounding like his sanity was dwindling away with each little thrust, “S’too big? You can take it. Fuck fuck fuck please. Need this.” Pressing all the way into your lungs. “How do you wan’ it- how do you wan’ me?”

Honestly, Choso didn’t even need to ask, because he just bottoms out - heavy balls smacking against your ass, cock swollen and throbbing inside you - that you think that you just wanted him to ruin you. 

“R-ruin?” his voice breaks as he repeats - more to himself than you. Oh, shit had you said that out loud? You’re speechless as Choso throws your legs over his shoulder, dragging his swollen lips lazily across your ankle. “Yes ma’am.”

Oh. You might as well have just signed off your will. 

Because then he’s fucking into your sloppy cunt. Unforgiving. A man starved because he was. Jagged, quick thrusts, splitting you apart deeper and deeper on his rock-hard cock. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck-” he pants into your open mouth, finding it so fucking difficult to find any rhythm when your tight cunt was milking him so good. “You feel so good. So messy. Ya love it like this, huh? Being hngh- watched?”

“Hngh-” you buck wildly into his body, reaching up to play coyly with his nipple piercings. Tugging and pulling lightly. “Feels too good- are- ah- are ya sure this is your first time?”

Honestly, it was a wonder Choso didn’t cum right then and there. 

Tojisslvt: need someone to fuck me like this the first time

22sabi: Typing with one hand is so hard.

DaStrongest: i could fuck her so much better than than inexperienced loser

Choso throws his head back in a cruel little laugh at that last comment, something that makes you tingle all the way from your burning cheeks to your stuffed cunt. Clamping down deliciously on Choso’s unforgiving cock in a way that makes his hips and fingers stutter. 

“Ya think you could fuck her better?” it takes you a second to realize he was talking to the camera and not you. Thrusts getting sloppier, getting familiar. “I’m the one that got her so messy like this.” Purposeful. Calculated. Like he was aiming for that one-

“Fuck!” you scream as he hits that magic spot. Once. And then over and over like a man possessed. Just so utterly ruining you the way you knew he could. “Cho oh my god- I can’t hah- ngh-”

The cold metal of Choso’s rings dig into your cheek softly as he turns you head to face him. God, this was the stuff of his wildest dreams.

You - teary eyed and looking up at him like such a slut. Pussy getting wetter - tighter - as he teases you in front of the camera. Torn between running away from his relentless cock and bucking up for more more more-

 “Fuck no no no- Keep your legs open, baby. Don’t hah- run away from me.” his fingers dig into your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. “Don’t- need this. Need this so ba- shit.” 

And he sounded so genuinely worried he’d lose the feeling of your heady cunt. Fingers bruising on your hips as he pulls you closer. Like he was trying to fuck out any and every shred of shyness out of your body. 

slvt4u: Always the quiet ones.

DaStrongest: heh, fuck off. i’d make her cum so much harder.

Now, Choso was fucking you like he had a point to prove, and it was probably the only reason he hadn’t passed out from how good your pussy felt wrapped around him. 

Both of you were barely-lucid at this point - and he was out of control now.

Pussy drunk thoughts unfiltered, “No one’s ever d-done this- got me hah- feeling like this.” And you had the distinct feeling he just beat you to your original goal, letting out sweet little babbles into your open mouth - though his hips were anything but. 

So hard that you were sure the creases of your sheets would leave marks for tomorrow - along with his balls on your ass, your ankles on his shoulders, lips searing against yours. It was like he wanted to prove something - to prove he was good enough to- the viewers? To you? 

Knowing your body well enough to hit that one spot over and over until you were sobbing. Fingers erratic on your clit. 

“Cho-” you squeal, tears springing to your eyes as he only gets sloppier. “I-I’m gonna-”

“Cum?” he breathes, as if he couldn’t believe it. And fuck if you weren’t the gates of heaven spread wide open for him then he didn’t know what was. “Fucking cum. Please please- hah- f’me. Cum on m’cock n’ make them jealous. F’me- Like you’re mine.”

You barely even realize when you are. Jaw slack, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you see stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. God, he was gonna have to go home and rewatch this stream all over again. 

“Ngh- m’cumming m’cumming oh-”

Not even realizing the way you’re dragging your nails down Choso’s sculpted back. Marking up his milky skin - and he lets you. 

Loved it in fact- the way he loved you. 

Your eyes go wide, and Choso knows he’s fucked up. Realizing with a jolt that words were tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. But it’s the way you squeeze him tighter- giving him such a gorgeous little fucked-out smile that sends him over the edge.

Sharp canines digging into the crook of your neck like he wanted to break skin, holding himself back from breaking you while he cums and cums so hard it hurt. Over and over-

“Love you- love you love you love you-” he’s muttering into the skin, unbarred. “Since I first saw hah- you. Wanted this more than fuck fuck- air that I breathe.”

His seed was oozing out of you now, painting your ravaged pussy white, dribbling down your legs.  So fucking full and debauched. Thick, hot globs that were sure to stain those overpriced new sheets. But did Choso care for the mess? Not at all. 

Because you were holding him so impossibly tight, pushing away the strands of hair sticking to his forehead. Whispering little praises as he fucks you through his first time. Close. Warm. Everything he ever dreamed of.

“S’everything I ever dreamed of, too, Cho.”

And he knows he’s won. 

urfavslvt: Proudest nut. Want more.

uniwhore: does this mean couples content??? Pls say yes plsplspls

DaStrongest: invite me next time <3

“Thought you were embarrassed.” he licks soothingly over the bite. Voice shot, piercing smooth against his tongue. Embarrassing little confessions leaving him with each spark of electricity running through his veins. “Thought you didn’t stream w’me cuz of that- but shit. Dreamed of this f’so long. So long-”

Oh?

“Hey, Cho.” your voice rings through his hazy mind. Just enough for Choso to raise his head and meet your intoxicating, sultry gaze. Giving a sly, sidelong glance at the still-blinking camera. 

“Mhm?”

“Wanna film a week’s worth of ‘movies’ in advance?”

---

Sukuna (do not answer): Oi shitty nephew, where r u Jin made me come over with (half) leftovers.

You: Sorry, not home. At the movies rn.

Sukuna (do not answer): When tf do u go to movies?? 

You: Since now, on a date. You probably can’t relate.

Sukuna (do not answer): Stfu n’ stop lying, a date with who? Ur body pillow?? Not like u had the balls to ask out that pretty lil’ camgirl anyway.

Haha

Right? 

You: *girlfriend

Sukuna (do not answer): Huh?

You: Girlfriend.

Sukuna (do not answer): THE FUCKIN’ PICK-UP LINE WORKED??

A/N. This came out a LOT longer than expected. 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[chuluoyi]

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 07:55 A.M 」

a little drabble based on this outrageous ask :)) and half-inspired by some lines from the broken ring: this marriage will fail anyway—that's my new roman empire everyone ehe🥹 and who can resist domestic husband!gojo?😋

a part of gojo's love entries

“you’re cheating on me.”

morning breakfast. satoru stopped chewing his toast at your wild accusation, his baby blue eyes blinking rapidly as he processed your words before turning to you and bursting out—

“huh?!”

“last night,” you charged, eyes narrowing in distaste. “i can’t believe you.”

“whaaa?” he tensed up, racking his brain for any indicators that he might have wronged you in any way, until he came across an irrefutable truth—

“wait no, last night, you almost made me lose it in my pants!” even satoru’s face reddened slightly while recounting your nightly tales. “before i busted it inside you. how is it possible that i’m committing adultery?!”

you huffed, looking away from him righteously. “in my last night’s dream, you did.”

. . .

“eh...” satoru blinked again, fully absorbing your words, before stupidly smiling. “what? you dream about me?”

you scowled, picking at your omelette. “yes. about you running away with five bimbos, banging them in a cottage in the middle of the woods, and leaving me here waiting for you like an idiot.”

he burst into uproarious laughter, so loud and crisp it made him wheeze. “what? seriously? you— ahahahaha!”

you threw him an unamused look, mildly irked.

“hey, wifey,” satoru nudged you, his grin stretching wide in sheer delight. “no one else can make my body react the way it does around you, you know~”

“…”

“this here,” your husband then shamelessly gestured towards his crotch. “—is broken already. my happy friend here can’t get up anymore if it’s not you.”

“…”

“i mean it! you’re the only one who can give me an erection!”

you whipped your head around him, scandalized. “ew! satoru, you—!”

“well, that’s the fact! nothing too embarrassing— we’re married!” he shrugged as you bulged a vein. “besides, shouldn’t you be proud? you've truly got me wrapped around your pinky~”

seeing how you were cutely pouting throughout breakfast, still all giggly, satoru led you back to bedroom to cuddle you.

“there, there, sweets... happy now?” satoru pulled you closer and pat your back, his body still slightly shaking with suppressed laughter.

“hmph.” you put your hands around his torso with pursed lips, squeezing him in return.

“look at this, it’s only when she’s spooked that the wife shows me any affection,” satoru exclaimed with a dramatic sigh. “so, what else did the dream version of me do to you, huh?”

“you bend each bimbo on every surface, lied to me that you’re on a long mission,” you huffed, grimacing as you recalled your dream vision. “you’re the worst.”

satoru still had that dopey grin on this face, and right this second, he thought you were the absolute cutest, because how could you think that he is capable of looking at anyone else the way he looks at you?

you have his heart, body and soul already. hasn't he told you that?

“is that so, poor you,” he retorted with mock sympathy. “but since you’re so worried...”

and suddenly, he rose from the bed with his arm around your back and another under your knees, cradling you in a princess carry. and with the smuggest smirk he whispered—

“...well, i have to make it up somehow. how about i bend you on your vanity desk now, hmm?”

[chocum]

WY@ !

— “even i know you ain’t no good for me, but you feel so good to me” feat. toji fushiguro & nanami kento (separate)

WARNING. you know you shouldn’t be messing with them, but fuck it feels good. femreader (she/her) v in p, dirty talk. missionary, hatefucking toj, namis ur boss, corruption kink kinda in nanamis, pervy nanami, ( 1.3k ) note. kindaaa ib wy@ by brent faiyaz mhm. thank you all for the support, hope u all enjoy bc i genuinely enjoyed writing this !!

TOJI FUSHIGURO — YOUR EX

“look at how fucking wet you are f’me baby. making a mess all over my fingers. i know you fucking miss me. cmonnn, come back to be, doll”

you’re trying so hard to mask the raw, carnal desire that pools and swirls deep in the pit of your core, refusing to stroke at his overgrown ego any further because being here, pressed up against his stupidly muscular frame after yelling hitting, and swearing to the heavens down to hell that he’d never see you again is already more than enough.

“n-no” you spit, an attempt to sound firm but it only comes out as a little whine making him erupt in laughter as he brings his dripping, slicked-up fingers— they’re glistening, covered in your mess, to your face, spreading them in front of you to make you watch how you web and coat every inch of his thick digits, “dunno why you’re tryna act all hard ‘s obvious you want me. pussy’s basically talkin’ ta me.”

“shut up and fuck me already” you never fail to bite.

“only ‘cause you asked soo nicely,” but he always bites back.

now he’s folding you over, pushing against the backs of your thighs so he can bully his thick cock into your more than welcoming pussy— he’s fucking into you like he hates you, knocking the air out of your lungs with every stroke, his pelvis brushing up against your clit because he’s soo deep, reminding you who your walls belong to.

“shiit toj’ it’s-“

“oh, now i’m toj’, hm?” he tilts his head, black hair hanging to the side, raising his pitch to mock your whiny tone. you hate him. originally you had only came over to pick up some clothes you had left when you first moved out. it all happened too quick, the argument starting over something so small, you were bound to forget some things.

you told him you were coming over to get your things; he knew. so the lack of a shirt, the towel that loosely wrapped underneath the deep cut of his v-line was no coincidence. one second you were looking through his drawers for your stuff, the next— well, now you’re getting the shit fucked out of you.

each time he drags his heavy cock against your walls stuffing your little pussy, each time he calls you his, tells you how dirty you are for him, you slowly start to forget why you broke up with him in the first place.

“playin’ tug a war with my, dick baby. shits so tight fuuuuck, nobody been in it since me, huh?”

you shake your head against the sheets, your resolve now dry and gone thanks to his cock pressing your sweet spot over and over and over, moans flowing past your slack jaw, “no. no one”

“good fucking girl. you know nobody can fuck you like i do. who pussy is this?” he’s grunting out straight filth and he’s got that stupid smirk on his face, teeth flashing underneath the characteristic scar.

but you don’t want to give into him— fighting till the end, so you mumble a “yours” your head falling to the side to avoid his dark eyes, opting to stare at the blank walls that have heard your scream for him time and time again.

but he stops, fully plugging you up, making your body tense and keen. “can’t hear you, doll?”

you truly do hate him, “‘m not movin’ till you answer my question. you can lay there and warm my cock all night, ‘s fine by me.” with every fiber in your being.

but still, you whine out a desperate “‘s yours” a little louder, heat spreading and scorching every inch of your body like waves of molten lava. because you need it. so bare and exposed for him, so vulnerable.

“who?”

“your’s toji! your pussy, all yours!”

he loves breaking you down like this, pounding you to a pulp, leaving you so small and empty underneath him to pick up and glue back together.

“there you go” he hums, “wasn’t so hard was it?” before rocking against you again, finally, finally scratching that itch so deep in your cunt only he can reach it. he knows it and with how you keep coming back, he knows you know it, too.

KENTO NANAMI — YOUR BOSS

mr. nanami, or kento as he repeatedly encourages you to call him with a sweet honeyed smile, has a thing for the cute, bright-eyed new girls that come into the office. he’ll fuck em a few times, dump out his warm cum, empty his balls then move onto the next.

but with you, it was different.

you didn’t stumble into his office as hurriedly as the others, didn’t pick up on the subtle hints he would drop, brushing his hand against your shoulder, grazing your blouse or squeezing your arm with his large hands, reassuring you when worried about your workload like a good boss should.

but you never got it. and it made him want you even more.

so he decided to make it painstakingly obvious. saying he needed you to stay later than everyone else that night to fill out some very important paperwork you missed when you were first hired.

walking into his office .. felt different, he felt different. its dark and most importantly, his desk is empty, not a single sheet of “important paperwork” in sight on the brownish wood that raises and decorates his modernly adorned office.

“sir?” you chime, grabbing his attention because he was lost in thought, adjusting himself against his black office chair with a grunt.

he smiles at you, sweetly, to hide his hunger. like a big bad wolf in sheep’s clothing “yes, come in. over here. next to me”

you shuffle over to where he sits, his back to the tall windows that loom and overlook the city, perched up on the top floor.

“come sit” he’s humming, patting at the large bulge in his lap making you gulp. but you obey with a shaky, “o-ok”

he’s your boss after all.

you sit, your thighs opening, spread for him on either side of his, making your tight pencil skirt rise and bunch up around your ass. his hands move to map your now exposed upper thighs, a smile growing on his lips.

“you’re such a hard worker. always turning in high-quality work. on time, too. i wanted to give you a reward.”

he moves higher, higher, and oh.

you’re not wearing any panties.

.. which is odd because he peaked earlier when you were bending over to pick up some dropped papers— could'nt help his curious eyes, and he could’ve sworn you had on cute little thong. yellow. his favorite. did you take them off? just for him? fuck, you know exactly how to drive him crazy, maybe you weren’t so innocent after all.

“would you like that?” he pulls you in closer, your bare cunt now flushed against his unfortunately clothed cock, drooling onto the cottony fabric of his dress pants.

and you smile, “i’d like anything you give me, kento.”

the way you say his name goes straight to his dick. twitching against you as he unbuckles his pants, the sound of metal clacking filling your ears and making you squirm against him, your pussy clenching around nothing needy for his thick cock.

he barely pushes them down, just enough to let his cock spring out, hissing when you move forward to press your sloppy, messy cunt against him. then he groans, grabbing at the back of your neck underneath your hair to make you watch as he slides in, forcing his cock past your puffy lips into your tight little hole.

you’re already hooked on the stretch. your jaw slacking open at how he fills you all the way up. your perv of a boss, slicking your walls with his precum.

“how — fuck, how long have you wanted to fuck me, hm?”

you press your hand against his chest, using it as leverage to roll and rock your hips against him.

“since i first laid my eyes on you, sweetheart”

[euthymiya]

female reader ; non curse au ; established relationship ; reader lays on sukuna ; written bc i’m moving and can’t help but imagine sharing an apartment with him (i want someone to help me carry heavy boxes with flexing muscles as i take in the view)

“I can’t find the box with my bras,” you whine. It’s miserable, the look on your face. It fills Sukuna with unbridled joy as he cracks a thickly amused grin.

“Good,” he grunts in approval, “you don’t need them, anyway.���

“I do,” you glare. It takes all of three seconds before the reality dawns on you—and then he’s snickering as your glare becomes harsher. “You put it somewhere, didn’t you?” You accuse him through narrowed eyes.

“Me? I’d never.”

“I should’ve known moving in with you was a mistake,” you snap, “I’m moving back.”

“Too late. We paid for the moving truck.”

“Well, technically you paid for the moving truck,” you correct him, letting your lips stretch into a smug grin.

He scowls, rolling his eyes before slumping onto the bed with a groan. You follow him, curling up beside him as your head finds his chest and his arm tucks under your body to cocoon you closer. You inhale, he exhales, and even if your paces don’t match, your uneven breaths form a pretty solid rhythm.

“I’m gonna need my bras,” you insist.

“Fine,” he grumbles, “I’ll get the box from my trunk later. I’m tired, woman.”

“We still have to unpack—”

“There’s plenty of time for that,” he clicks his teeth in distaste. “I need rest—I did all the heavy lifting, since someone refused.”

“It’s what the man is for,” you hum cheekily.

“So then why didn’t you do it?” He raises a brow. You shoot him an unimpressed look at his smart comment, a tight lipped, sarcastic smile splaying on your lips as you let out a humorless chuckle.

“You’re right,” you nod seriously, “it’s my job to treat the lady right. Sorry you had to sprain your back with my boxes, princess,” you pat his cheek.

“The fuck are you on about?” The look of pure disgust on his face makes you break out into giggles, leaning up to kiss his jaw as he grumbles something incoherently under his breath. You hear bits and fragments of it. Something along the lines of such a handful and give me migraines that you don’t fully catch, but they manage to amuse you all the same.

“You’re pretty enough to play the part,” you hum, shifting your body to roll on top of his. You hover over him, and Sukuna lets out a dramatic grunt. You pretend—and it’s only out of the goodness of your heart—that his cheeks aren’t slightly rosy from the comment you made.

“You’re heavy,” he says (to which you gasp, offended) as he squeezes your ass (you gasp again and smack his chest this time) and shoots you a grin with no shame (you stare for just a strict second—and a strict second only—at his dimples).

“Don’t lie,” you huff, “that’s an insult to that gym regimen of yours.”

“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” He asks smugly, mouth curving in that ridiculously annoying, yet stupidly handsome way as he adds, “bet you’re eye-fuckin’ me through that mirror as I life weights all the time.”

“I’m too busy worrying about those shaky arms giving out and leaving you to die under the weight.”

“Very funny,” he scowls, “you could pay our rent with stand up comedy alone.”

“Being my princess isn’t enough? Now you need to be my sugar-baby, too?”

“Enough,” he hisses, one hand coming to your face to keep you away as you break into a fit of laughs and try to give him a cheeky peck to the lips. “Stay away from me.”

“No, we’re roomies now.”

“We are not roommates,” he says, irritated by the idea. “That sounds like we’re fuckin’ strangers.”

“You’re right,” you nod thoughtfully, “I guess we can call it two mutually benefiting individuals that have decided to split costs to save money on a living space in an unforgivingly harsh economy—”

“You talk too much,” he mutters. And mainly just to shut you up (but maybe, perhaps, possibly for one of the mutual benefits, too), his hand grabs the back of your neck to pull you into a rough kiss. You cut yourself off by letting out a muffled gasp as his tongue presses against yours—messy, heated, and surprisingly gentle.

“Well, that was rather passionate. You know what they say about roommates,” you wiggle your brows as you pull away. He purses his lips in an agitated expression as he glares at your stubborn word choice.

“Stop callin’ me your fuckin’ roommate,” he demands.

You laugh. It’s soft—a light, airy noise. The sound bounces off the walls that are his and yours and echoes along the space between your pressed-up bodies. Along the boxes littered across the floor and the suitcases lined up in the corner. Along the clothes you insisted you needed that he hasn’t seen you wear in months as they lay in a heap on his closet floor. Along the kitchen table where you’ll have breakfast, and the living room where you’ll watch movies, and the bathroom sink where you’ll fight over space to brush your teeth.

He’ll never tell you directly (because he has dignity, of course) but he could really get used to living somewhere that houses a sound like that. A sound that makes him realize the difference between the space he lives in, and the place he calls home.

Home, he thinks to himself for a moment. Home is where your laugh echoes, ringing obnoxiously in his ear. Sukuna doesn’t think any living space will ever be the same again without it.

“Since we live together now—” you murmur, breaking him from his thoughts as you lean in to peck his lips. He hums in a rare, soft, content little sound that you don’t get to hear too often. “—I can finally decorate your plain ass apartment.”

His brows scrunch in horror as he registers your words. “Absolutely not—”

“Muah,” you cut him off with another peck to his mouth, “I’m thinking earthy tones, what about you?”

——————————

I carried like 20 something heavy ass boxes to and from my car nonstop today and every time I felt my poor arms get sore, I thought: wouldn’t it be so nice to have someone like sukuna and his four arms to do all the work while I sit and look gorgeous? He doesn’t have four arms in this fic, but that’s honestly his problem not mine. Just carry the damn boxes I’m just a girl

[himbosandhardwear]

Eddie scans the room, looking for who or what he's not sure, just keeping his eyes peeled for something interesting. It's Saturday night, a packed house, some of the usual suspects but some new faces too.

One in particular stands out, especially considering his Sears Catalog attire and artfully tousled hair.

There's something about his loose body language that draws Eddie's eye. He's out of place but he doesn't act out of place. Eddie can respect it.

Unfortunately, when their eyes meet, he gets a kicked gut reaction that makes it clear this guy is off limits. The guy looks away immediately, probably thinks Eddie is more likely to pickpocket him than buy him a drink. Oh well. No great loss, he didn't come to get laid anyway.

He makes his way to the bar, gets a shot of Jack and a Miller Lite and waits. Teddy will probably show up before too long, maybe they can bar hop. He sips his beer and looks around some more, noting the older Mexican lady who runs the flower stand on the corner. You wouldn't guess it just by looking at her but she can drink anyone in the place under the table. He should really get her name.

Sears Catalog has moved to a table on the right side of the room, standing with a presumed girlfriend. Their heads are bent close together. He looks up and catches Eddie staring. They both look away again. He's really gotta stop doing that before he gets hate-crimed. It's a known problem, his type being untouchable preppy boys. He's sure if a shrink studied him, they would say it was because he didn't think he was worthy of love, or some shit, but he can't help it. The straighter, the meaner, the cleaner cut, the more Eddie falls all over himself. It’s a miracle he ever gets laid. Thankfully there’s always closet cases. He swore to himself he wasn't going to do that anymore though, he needs to have some self-respect, not let asshole jocks use him and drop him the second an emotion is displayed.

“That outfit is hideous.”

Eddie jolts in his seat. He finds Sears Catalog smirking at him like what he's said is the height of wit.

Eddie wastes no time pouring the rest of his beer over the guy's head.

He stares back at Eddie in shock, almost hurt. Fuck him. He doesn't care, he's not letting some dumbass gymrat hone his bullying skills on him. Not today.

The guy's girlfriend jogs over with a handful of napkins, which is when Eddie splits.

“I told you not to use that line!” He hears her exclaim. Eddie stops in his tracks.

“But…but...he didn't even let me get to the good part,” Sears laments. Eddie can't turn back around, he's frozen in place.

“Yeah, dingus, because it's a stupid fucking line. I'm sorry you had to find out like this but not every guy who makes eye contact with you wants to fuck you.”

“I know that! I just thought… I don't know. Let's just get out of here.”

He sounds so defeated. Eddie did that. He assumed the worst and reacted accordingly. Like an asshole. Like a bully.

They're halfway to the door when Eddie's feet unstick themselves from the floor. He rushes to intercept.

“What was the rest of the line?” He shouts.

Sears turns, eyes wide, unsure.

His…friend? Looks Eddie over, unimpressed. “What's it to you?”

He winces. “Just…uh…I guess I thought you should know, some of the guys who make eye contact do want to fuck you, they're just too stupid to realize they're being hit on.”

Sears and Mean Friend make their own eye contact. Mostly ‘Beat it' and ‘Are you serious?’ and ‘Yes, oh my god, please go.’

Eddie respects their bond.

Once Mean Friend has sufficiently rolled her eyes and threatened Eddie with bodily harm should anything worse than beer befall her friend, she stalks off into the night.

“You should take it off.”

“Huh?” Eddie responds, stupidly.

Sears smiles. “That's the rest of the line. ‘Your outfit is hideous. You should take it off.’”

Fuck, it really is a terrible line. Something a middle aged creep would use. If he'd waited long enough to hear it the first time it would've made him laugh though, which would have broken the ice.

“Awful. Zero out of ten,” he says while grinning. “Looks like you already offended one guy.” He looks at Sears’ wet shirt, appreciating his own handiwork.

“I'll keep workshopping.” His hand comes up slowly, like Eddie might react badly again. “Steve.”

It's his honor and privilege to clasp Steve's hand in his own.

“Eddie. And can I say, your outfit looks great. It would look better on my floor.”

Steve practically twinkles at him. “Stop, I'm already a sure thing.”

He uses the hand still in his grasp to pull Eddie forward and smash their lips together.

When their grandkids ask how they got together, Eddie is going to have to lie.

[nanaslutt]

gojo making you ride his hard fucking abs

well HELLOOO to you too nonnie, this is so brilliant

this scenario makes my brain feel like mush, thank yew so much for the ask babe<3

contains: fem reader, body worship, praising gojo, dirty talk, finger sucking, nipple play, size kink, humping, use of ‘pretty’ and baby’ for reader, gojo cums untouched

MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

it was a gloomy morning, gojos oversized button up shirt draped over your figure, elbows perched on the back of the couch as your hands cradled your chin, staring out the tall windows of gojo’s penthouse and down on the common people that were just starting their day

the savory smell of bacon and pancakes cooking filling your nose as you crane your neck to the side to watch your handsome boyfriend prepare breakfast for the two of you

eyes fliting down to his bare torso, abs practically glowing under the hanging fluorescent lights, muscles on his pecs rippling every time he rotates his body, biceps flexing as he mixes more pancake batter together,

pink tongue sticking out against his upper lip as he concentrates on not burning the bacon, how he looked so naturally beautiful always baffled you, his pretty face looking so serious has you smiling to yourself

an intense itch in your brain coming on telling you that you needed to have your hands on your stupidly attractive boyfriend right this second has you pushing yourself up from the couch, strolling over to his massive figure,

creeping behind him, and pressing your tits and the side of your face into his back, wrapping your arms around him, fingers landing exactly where you wanted them to; right on his rock hard abs,

“got tired of people watchin baby?” he smiles feeling your hands caress up his naked chest,

“you’re much more pleasing to watch,” you hum into his solid back,

“seems like i’m pleasing to touch too,” he retorts smugly when your smaller hands start groping his pecs, “my pretty girl is so handsy this morning.”

you have the most satisfied look on your face, unable to believe this rock solid mountain of a man was all yours to touch whenever you wanted

running your hands down the sides of his slutty little waist and up back over his rippling abs, tracing your fingers in the indents between them

his heart rate is picking up the longer he feels your cold hands run over his body, huffing out quiet breathless laughs, looking down at you as your maneuver your body in front of him now,

squished between his large figure and the counter, “ur abs are so fucking hot toru.” you practically moans out, splaying your fingers out over them, leaning into him to pepper kisses right under his pecs,

breath hitching as he looks between the food still cooking on the stove, and your clearly aroused face, leaving hot kisses and licks on his sensitive body,

“ur so distracting baby, gonna make me burn the food i’m workin so hard on for you.” he forces out a laugh, feeling his cock twitch in his pants, growing harder the longer he feels your soft lips on him

“don’ mind me, jus’ appreciating my boyfriends sexy body,” you speak in between kisses,

now he wants to laugh for real, it’s kinda hard to stay focused on the task at hand when your hands are sliding over the deep cuts of his v-line, fingers so very close to the hem of his baggy sweats,

sliding down between the counter and his strong legs, balancing your ass on the heels of your feet as you start to practically makeout with his abs, feeling the vibrations on his tummy as you let out small moans into him,

“h-aaah baby cmon,” he turns off the stove with one hand, shoving both pans off the heat and onto the back burners, running his large fingers through your hair

you lean into the touch affectionately, fingers smoothing over his lithe figure where your lips can’t reach from your current position between his legs, “thought you woke up starving huh?” he states, making eye contact with you, veiw slightly blocked by the massive bulge he’s now sporting in his sweats,

you look up at him through your lashes,”hungry for somethin else now,” smiling, you standing back up, sliding your fingers underneath the band of his sweats and teasing the tips of your fingers there for a second before walking away, using the hold you had on him to pull him along with you like a dog,

“oh, where are you takin me cutie?” his eyebrows shoot up, happily trailing behind you

spinning him in front of you, you pushed him down onto to the couch you were resting against prior to the attack you assaulted on your boyfriend,

he lets himself relax into the cushions, hand sticking out to caress your thigh as you reach underneath your (his) shirt and slide your panties off your ankles before straddling his waist, core placed right over his lower abs,

“want you to just lay there toru,” you lean down into his ear and whisper, making a open mouthed toothy grin appear on his handsome face, “yeah? you gunna ride my abs baby?”, he breaths out, landing heavy hands down on your ass with a smack, massaging your cheeks in his massive palms,

“mhm,” you whimper, pulling your shirt up between your teeth, beginning to rotate your hips in small circles, pressing your soaking cunt into him

“oh shit, you for real? gonna get ur wet little cunt off by rubbin on my muscles?” he bites his lip watching the scene unfold

breath hitching, you stared intently down at where your leaking pussy meets his abs, humping your hips back and forth now, clit catching on the deep indents of his solid core,

“fuck t-toru,” throwing your head back you let the shirt between your drop, covering your body once more, humping him with a newfound vigor

he’s breathing so heavy watching you use him to get yourself off, his neglected cock twitching for attention as he pulls and pushes your ass cheeks together, helping you rub yourself off on him faster,

“makin such a mess on me, look how fucking wet you are!” he groans, pushing the shirt back up your body so he can get a good view of the juices from your cunt flooding his torso,

“feel good baby? i can feel your pussy twitching, she wanna get filled up after you cum all over me?” he’s babbling, feeling on the verge of cumming himself, not even having touched his cock, just from watching your reactions to grinding hard on him, and feeling how you squeezed around nothing at his filthy words,

“y-yeah toru, feels so fucking perfect oh my g-god,” high pitched moans leaving your mouth, one of your hands that was previously on his chest helping you hold yourself up was now sliding up his solid figure, two of your fingers sliding in his open mouth,

closing his lips around them and sucking, using his tongue to lick around them, feeling the vibrations of his moans shake your digits

hes rolling his eyes back, massaging your ass impossibly harder before youre popping your fingers out of his mouth and tracing your spit covered digest down his neck,

reaching his nipples you make quick circles over the hardening pink buds, he bites his lip and throws his head back, trying not to moan like a little bitch at the new sensation,

hes flexing his abs in perfect time with your thrusts, clit getting the perfect stimulation you needed, “please don’t stop p-please please” you’re babbling, hips losing their rhythm and moans getting higher and higher, shorter and shorter, little “ah ah ah!”s leaving you,

“yesyesyes give it to me pretty give it to me, cum all over me, need ‘t feel it please,” he huffs out, he’s mirroring your expression with a slacked jaw, watching intently as your hips almost come to a complete stop before you he feels your cunt gush,

squeezing around his torso with your thighs, your back arches forward each time you’re hit with a wave of your orgasm, barely able to rock on him by yourself anymore from the intensity of your orgasm, he took it upon himself to use your ass to rock you back and forth on his abs, helping you ride it out,

both of you breathing rapidly when you finally come down from your high, looking down at his chiseled body to see the absolute mess you made, abs really glowing now from the sheen of cum you left on him,

“looks like that felt ‘s fucking good,” he says with a dopey grin on his face, chest heaving, your arms fall back behind you to brace yourself, one accidentally landing on his crotch and you freeze

turning you torso and neck in time you look down at his once light gray sweats and see a big damp spot on his crotch, cock twitching in the aftershocks underneath it, when you turn back around he’s looking more fucked out than ever, “looks like i wasn’t the only one who got off on that,” you giggle, breakfast he was working so hard on long forgotten about

[ncroissant]

switch! doppelgänger francis mosses x dom! gn! reader x sub! francis mosses

summary: double-teaming the real francis with doppel! francis

wc: 1.4k

content warning: nsfw, cock can be viewed as a strap, nipple play (personal fave), throat-fucking, blow jobs, hand jobs, dirty talk, doppel francis is referred to as doppel, wrist burns, tied up francis

author’s note: hellooooo my lovelies !! here is the long awaited fanfic that will hopefully satiate everyone’s preferences from the francis mosses poll yesterday (so i'm a pathalogical liar bc the way this was just sub! francis...) i plan to write many, many more sub! francis content because i cannot imagine him any other way. hope you guys enjoy this :) not proofread, minors please dni !!

“hhGHK-”

“can’t hear you that well down there, francie. speak up f’me?” you smile devlishly, tilting your head to look down at your crotch. francis knelt there with brusied knees, sucking your cock, stroking what he couldn’t fit with two hands.

another francis emerged from behind you, chuckling at his dupilcate’s pitiful state. “is that what the francis of this world is really like? a milk delivery man during the day, then a pathetic little whore who chokes on cocks back at home?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“c’mon, use me too. i would never whine like this while suckin’ on that…” his fingers trailed down your v-line to the base of your cock. “i’m different from this loser…” he pouted, placing his chin on your shoulder, giving you a pleading look.

“m-mmnMPFH, g-GHK!” francis moaned, the vibrations shooting through your cock. he was whiny, but that’s what turned you on the most about your desperate little boyfriend.

you chuckled, gripping at his hair to make him look up at you. “don’t forget to look at me while i fuck your throat, francy,” you instructed as he nodded as best as he could with tears pricking his eyes. the look he gave you was so priceless, his mouth stuff full with your fat cock and drool dripping down his chin.

“yeah, but my dirty boy takes my cock the best,” you praised, making doppel frown. you thrusted your cock deep into francis’ throat, hitting the back of his throat every time you made even the slightest movement.

his eyes rolled back at the thickness and length of your cock, as he exhaled through his nose heavily. he felt his hands drifting down to his bulge, humping the carpet underneath.

you noticed, finally knowing what to do with doppel. “actually, i need you to take care of my needy little boy down there…” you shot francis a glare, shaking your head in disappointment. he whimpered at the action, his eyes widening with tears immediately streaming down his cheeks.

you pulled him off your cock, his saliva connecting to the tip. “haagnh…” he mewled out, his tongue still stuck out, waiting for a sweet treat. “c-cum on my tongue, please…” he begged, placing the tip of your cock on his tongue.

“such a needy boy. always wanting more than what you’re given, huh?” you tutted, grabbing your middle of your cock to tap it roughly on his tongue. he could only moan, feeling his hips shake in anticipating.

“that’s why i have him. to help me discipline you,” you pulled at doppel’s bow to tug him closer, untying it in the process. “c’mere francie. up on my lap,” you patted your lap, holding a hand out for him to get up.

he followed suit, stumbling over his feet a bit, but ultimately sitting on your lap with his back pressed against your chest. his cock was aching in his stupidly tight pants, begging to be let free. his face flushed at the sight of a very different, yet similar version of himself in front of him.

“doppel, c’mere sit on francie’s thigh,” you motioned him over, straightface. you, on the otherhand, begun to tie francis’ wrists above his head with the tie you had previously acquired. doppel obediently followed your instructions, sitting on one of francis’ spread thighs.

“w-what’re we doing?” francis stuttered, feeling exposed despite being fully clothed.

your arms looped around his body, rubbing his nipples through the fabric of his shirt. he jolted. “just punishing you,” you smiled, giving doppel a look. he quickly caught on, unzipping francis’ pants, palming him through his underwear.

your pointer finger tickled at his sensitive nub, while the other hand pinched at his already hardened nipple. francis’ weak spot was his nipples. the way he reacted when you even grazed his nipples made you want to bend him over a bucket and squeeze them until milk came out.

“o-oooH! hnnghh…w-why through my s-shirt?” he whimpered, jutting out his wet lower lip.

you gave him no response, flicking at his buds with your nails, making his arch his back. “gHK! y-you’re too, mnGHHK, rough!” he exclaimed, his brows furrowing. you loved to twist and tug at his nipples.

it was his fault for wearing such a tight uniform shirt. he was just asking to have you toy with his neglected buds that always poked out from the slightly nudge from the shirt fabric. your hands grope his chest, fingers rubbing over them quickly.

doppel wasn’t neglecting francis’ cock either. he was playing lazily with the wet spot on francis’ underwear that leaked pre-cum. it stuck to his pointer finger when he dragged it away, making doppel chuckle at his copy’s sensitivity.

“feel good, francie? squirmin’ so much, hm?” you placed your chin on his shoulder, watching the way his lips shaped into an “o”, mewling at the way you played with his perky nipples. you’d tug on one, flicking the other one quickly.

“g-good, HNGH, o-oghhh...s-so gnhh…” he could barely get a word out, lewd noises just falling out of his lips. you stopped teasing his nipples before slowly unbuttoning his uniform shirt.

doppel wasn’t taking francis seriously, stroking at a pace he thought was slow, but inhumanely too quick for francis. “human dicks are so small. you pleasing anyone with this tiny little guy, huh?” he teased, making eye contact with francis. “oh look, more pre-cum spilled out!”

francis felt how wet his cock was getting, covered in dopel’s spit and his own pre-cum. when he thought he only had to focus on doppel, your hands came back to grope at his chest. you could now visibly see the pink plushness of his nipples.

“looks like something might come out if i squeeze hard enough, right francie?” you whispered in his ear, rolling your fingers around the bud.

“same thing on my end,” doppel chimed in, rubbing his thumb over francis’ slit.

francis shivered at the thought, feeling his high come at lightning speed. the way the tips of your fingers would flick at his nipples combined with doppel’s inhumane strokes made the poor boy explode.

“ooonghhh, ‘m c-cumming soon, mmngh! HGK! c-cumming!” he bursted into doppel’s palm, collapsing into your arms. your movement slowed slightly, but you continued to flick at the tips of his nipples.

doppel took note of this, playing with the slit of his dick, playing with the foreskin. “human stamina is so pathetic. surely you’re not done now?” doppel leaned down, lapping francis’ cum with his monstrous cum.

“UGHK? i-i jus’, hic, came…hnnn…” he cried, tears streaming down his cheeks, feeling his aching tip burn. regardless of his pleads, he still rutting his cock into doppel’s mouth for additional friction.

“show me what your pretty chest looks like now, francie,” you ordered, as he puffed out his chest for you to see properly over his chest. you hummed deciding to untie him so he could give you a real show.

his wrists were red from shaking against the restraints so you pressed chaste kisses against the burns. “that’s not how you show me, is it?” he shook his head, shaking from the way doppel was sucking his dick.

francis’ fingers stretched the skin around his nipples, properly showing you the puffiness of his teased buds. he looked up at you with his fingers strewn across his chest with a teary-eyed expression.

“such a perfect boy f’me,” you praised, ruffling his locks. “so good that you can take another hour of teasing before taking my cock, right?” you grinned, your hands finding their rightful spot on his chest.

‘e-EUGH! yesyesyes…i can take it, hngh!” he nodded furiously, his hips shaking like a dog in heat.

“good boy,” you nodded, sticking your fingers into his already open mouth. you and doppel had a long night ahead of you.

taglist: @lordragamuffin

[sun4r1nnity]

a star that outshines

fem!reader x second year!miya osamu

oneshot, fluff

“Miya twins are amazing, aren’t they?”

“Undeniably, yeah.”

“They are truly monsters on the court.”

An ocean of compliments about the Miya twins drowns the whole atmosphere, the talented and skillful brothers who have made their names in the volleyball industry. You mentally agree with each of the positive comments about the brothers, while your eyes are locked onto the specific grey-haired twin, Miya Osamu.

Yeah, you have a crush on THE Miya Osamu.

You like him so much that you started going to their practice matches almost every day like everyone else, just to see him play. The sound of the ball hitting the court, the squeak of sneakers, and the cheers of the crowd become the soundtrack of your afternoons. The smell and sweat and the sight of his focused expression make your heart race.

You like him so much that you intentionally leave at the same time he leaves his dorm just so you can walk near him. And it works, because you always coincidentally walk behind him and his friends, listening to whatever they are talking about. The scent of his cologne lingers in the air, a subtle reminder of his presence.

You like him so much that you started visiting your best friend, Hikari, in Class 1, just hoping to see him and wishing that he would notice you too. The anticipation of possibly seeing him makes your heart race every time you walk into the classroom.

You like him so much that when you accidentally learned his favorite food, you started liking what he likes too. The taste of his favorite dish becomes a bittersweet experience, a connection to him that he doesn’t even know exists.

You like him so much that you wrote love letters, but they were never sent to him. Because you’re afraid.

Afraid to face the fact that he will most definitely reject you.

Because he’s Miya Osamu, whose fame is at the top of the school alongside his twin Miya Atsumu, and of course, they have a bunch of pretty girls lined up to be their girlfriends.

So one night in your dorm, you asked your best friend.

“Am I being a creep?”

She raised her eyebrows, eyes still glued to her phone with a lollipop in her mouth.

“Not really, why?”

“I think I’m being a creep,” you huffed out a sigh.

“Why would ya think that? 'S not like ya peep him in the bathroom or send him ya unwashed panties—”

“I reeeally don’t like your use of examples.”

“Well, 'kay, listen, it’s totally normal when yer in love! And as long as ya don’t do anything stupidly crazy, yer safe as hell,” she continues as she sits up and stares down at you.

You hum, staring at the ceiling blankly as your friend continues to scroll through her social media. You think, you have no chance with Miya Osamu. Well, it’s just a crush, you’ll get over him eventually. So that’s when you decide, you have to stop chasing someone who is way out of your league.

And you did. You stopped going to his practice matches, you stopped visiting your best friend so often, you even stopped coincidentally walking near him to school. You avoided him every chance you got, until after a few days it became too obvious. So why, when your best friend has her earphones plugged in, while the teacher is unavailable for class, does Miya Osamu walk up to her and say,

“Hey, uh, been meanin’ to ask,”

Your friend looks up at him with a raised eyebrow as she takes off her earphones.

“Why haven’t I seen ya cute friend lately? Y’know, the one that always comes ta’ hang out with ya?”

And it makes her eyes widen.

Not long after that, she immediately bombs your phone with a whole lotta texts.

hikari🤍

hey

holy shit

omfg

yo

MIYA LIKES YOU TOO

answer me dammit!!!!

YOOO

miya fuckinf osamu LIKES U TOO

OPEN YOUR PHONE

You should have made a move earlier, Osamu,” Suna said, his voice slightly muffled by the jelly stick in his mouth. He glanced up from his phone, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

Osamu shrugged as he sank into his chair, the cool metal frame pressing against his back. The faint hum of the gym’s fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, mingling with the distant echoes of volleyballs being spiked and sneakers squeaking on the polished floor.

Little did you know, Osamu had always noticed you from the crowd. He noticed how your eyes would light up during matches, how you would nervously tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. He noticed the way you always seemed to arrive at school just as he did, your steps quickening when you saw him. He noticed everything about you—your smile that could brighten the dullest day, your infectious laughter, your favorite snacks that you always had in your bag.

But you didn’t know that. You didn’t know that he knew about your big, fat crush on him. You didn’t dare to even strike up a conversation with him, always too shy to make the first move. So when he stopped seeing your presence in the crowd, his heart ached with a longing he couldn’t quite understand. That’s when he finally mustered the courage to ask your friend about you.

“Did you ask for her number?” Suna asked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp with interest.

Osamu smiled, a soft, almost shy smile that reached his eyes. He nodded, his fingers tracing the edges of his phone. “(Y/N)⭐️” was saved in his contacts, the star symbol a small but significant detail that made his heart flutter.

Will you be surprised if you received a message?

[murdrdocs]

venus fly

description. the pollen that sprayed in LUKE CASTELLAN's face earlier this morning has some really weird effects. not that he's complaining.

a continuation of this drabble

includes. sex pollen SUGGESTIVE CONTENT 18+, accidental drugging, loser!luke, best friend!reader, demeter!reader, implied oral (f and m receiving), slightly perv!luke, aftercare almost nonexistent

wc: 4.5k+

a/n: the long awaited sex pollen fic. title from venus fly by grimes. no explicit smut ahead. artwork credit unknown.

Your shirt is fitting you really well. 

Your lips are moving, you’re saying something to Luke, he assumes it’s likely at least a little bit important, but he can only focus on how well your shirt is fitting. 

Tight enough over your bust—Luke figures you’re wearing a sports bra for capture the flag today since he sees no bra lines, but the bra creates a nice shape for your tits, so he doesn’t need the lines to entertain him. 

“Did you get a new shirt?”

You stop whatever you were saying to look down at your chest. You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest as you fix Luke with a look of disappointment. 

“Wha–? It’s an older one. All of my others were dirty.” Your bosom is covered, but Luke is still staring. It’s like he cannot peel his eyes away. Though, he hasn’t tried. At least, not until you scold him. 

“Will you stop ogling me while I’m trying to talk to you?” 

His reply is earnest. “Wait, shit, yeah. ‘m sorry I don't know what's going on…” 

You stare at him, your eyebrows furrowed and your lips parted. Luke can’t help but fix his eyes there next. You’re wearing chapstick, or maybe lip gloss. Something spread over your lips that creates a nice sheen that makes him want to lick it off like icing on a treat. 

“It’s okay …” Your words aren’t that convincing but you drop your arms and start speaking again. This time, Luke takes in at least a dozen words. 

Really, he should have known what was wrong with him. The same way he should have known that eventually, his insistent nosiness would come back to bite him in the rear. 

You’d always warned him of such, telling him that “it’s charming until it’s not”, when you would boot him out of the greenhouse. (Truthfully, Luke had codependency issues but if he never really admitted it to himself, then he wouldn’t have to admit it to you, either.)

You were spending more time in the greenhouse lately. Which has never been a problem for Luke. But your newest project, something completely unknown to Luke as it was apparently a Demeter kid only project, was taking away his time with you. You could barely spare a half hour to go by the lake. You traded chores with one of your siblings for more time in the greenhouse, leaving Luke to work with someone not nearly as entertaining as you. 

The only time he got to really see you was early in the morning and late at night. And if he was losing his time to something else—or, gods forbid, someone else—he wanted to know what it was. 

So right when you were leaving the greenhouse early that morning, Luke snuck in after you. He searched around, trying to find evidence of you anywhere, and when he did find it, he found his demise there, too.

Sitting next to your favorite pen was a potted plant. It resembled a venus fly trap, but immensely bigger. There were a cluster of them, some with large flowers growing out of the opened mouths. Luke stupidly had the urge to provoke the plant, driven by the desire to see them in action. 

He took your favorite pen, and gently stuck it inside of the mouth. 

When a puff of yellow smoke hit him square in the face, he hadn’t thought much of it. 

When he stumbled out of the greenhouse with a fog in his head and dizziness, he thought it to be a single side effect. 

When he started to feel warmer than usual, he thought it to be an effect of the insistent summer heat. 

It’s not until he’s waking up on the ground that he really begins to worry. 

His eyes open and he is immediately greeted with the sun attempting to blind him. He squints and raises a hand over his face, shielding both the sun and whoever stands over him. 

When they speak, he doesn’t need his eyes to tell who he is joined by. 

“Jesus, Castellan, if you didn’t scare the shit outta me just now I would be bragging about beating you.” 

Luke groans and rolls onto his side. He’s still wearing his battle armor over his clothes and he suddenly feels uncomfortable, like everything has been made wrong or maybe like he has outgrown them. His camp shirt is too tight against his body, pressing the sweat back into his skin and not allowing for any breathing room. His shorts feel awkward in the crotch, as do his briefs. And his shoes are suffocating his feet. 

There is nothing he wants more in this moment than to peel the armor and clothes off of his body and run down to the water. But he doesn’t know if the game has ended yet, nor does he know how long he has been out. 

There are many unanswered questions he has, but the first one he starts with is, “Why are you here?” 

He hears you scoff and knows you have rolled your eyes. 

“We were sparring and you just passed out. I wasn’t just going to leave you here.” 

He finally looks at you. His eyesight has readjusted to the light from the star above, so it stings just a bit less when he peers one eye open. 

You add on, “I didn’t know if you had spontaneously died or something! And now that I know you’re fine…” You bend down and grab your helmet, situating it back on your head and standing at attention over Luke. 

He needs to stand. The last thing he remembers is fighting you and he's never lost a fight to you. In his mind, he hasn’t surrendered, and you haven’t defeated him, so he needs to stand. 

He tries to, he really does, but his knees get weak and as soon as he’s up, his head spins and he’s right back down. 

You swear just before your knees are hitting the earth and you’re kneeling beside him. 

Luke can feel you pressing the back of your hand against his forehead, he can hear you asking him a few questions, he can see your wide eyes staring into his heavy ones, but he can’t respond. He can’t do anything but worry about the bile rising in his throat, or focus on the shining water just behind you. 

He doesn’t realize that he has begun moving until the bottom of his pants feel heavy with the weight of water. 

When he’s in to his thighs, he collapses and lets the ripples wash over his body. 

You don’t follow him until after him for a few moments, and when you do, you stand still at the shoreline. You let Luke soak the heat and sweat off of his skin as best as the circumstances allow, and you only speak to him once he’s standing right in front of you in soaked clothes and wet armor. 

“What’d you take?” 

At first, he’s not playing dumb. It just takes a moment for your words to plant in his mind. Then he plays dumb. 

“Take? I don’t know what you mean.”

You don’t entertain his ditziness and instead begin making your case. 

“You’re clearly on something, Luke. You’re sweating even though it’s as cool as it usually is. Your pupils are wide and your eyes go from restless to barely open. You keep fidgeting and every few minutes you twitch. And you’re standing here, talking to me, instead of helping the red team secure another win.” 

Luke hadn’t noticed most of his symptoms. It’s not like he can notice anything other than the thoughts in his mind, especially when they give him images of your tits bouncing in his face and audible hallucinations of what you would sound like moaning his name. 

He decides then and there that capture the flag doesn’t matter. Not when he has what he wants, the true glory, right in front of him. 

He heard you, he processed your words, but the sight of your lips distracts him once more and prevents him from instantly responding. He stares instead, watching your mouth through lazy blinks. 

He doesn’t even consider responding until you tut. 

“If you don’t want to tell me, then that’s fine. I’ll go get Maria L to take care of you then.” 

Luke's eyes widen. Maria L is an excellent healer but she also has a pestering crush on Luke, one that encourages her to touch Luke with grazes that border on harassment and lack any professionalism. 

“No! Not her.” Luke would feel bad about his reaction to the girls name if he didn’t have such a one track mind. 

Your eyebrows raise to tell him to continue. He does so begrudgingly. 

He picks at his fingernails and his cuticles until dead skin peels back to reveal blood. But the sting on his thumb doesn’t compare to the dull pain residing in his groin. 

He knows that admitting the truth to you would open the possibility of criticism. His current … illness aside, you would never let him live down the day his nosiness actually reaped consequences. He briefly considers accepting defeat, walking away with his tail tucked between his legs, and taking control of the growing boner on his own. 

He might be generally inexperienced in these situations, but even he knows that his own fist wouldn’t compare to even the slightest bit of attention from you. 

He opens his mouth. “I went in the greenhouse.” 

Your eyes widen as if Luke had confessed to committing a cardinal sin, and it’s then that Luke begins to really worry about himself.

“Did you …?” You don’t even have to finish your sentence before he nods. “Luke! You fucking-“

Not really in the mood for your chastising, Luke holds one hand up.  He is able to silence you for only a second before you’re slapping his hand away. You’re yelling at him, both for trying to rudely shut you up, and for doing the one thing you told him not to do. 

He sits and listens, waiting not-so-patiently for you to tire yourself out. He thought that point would come sooner than it does, but he’s sure that at least two minutes have passed and you’re showing no signs of stopping. 

He rolls his eyes, he furrows his eyebrows, and he tries to discreetly adjust the boner in his cargos, but according to you, Luke has never been discreet a day in his life. He has never believed in your so-called ability to see right through him until your eyes pointedly drift to his crotch with his hand still attached to it. 

Your insistent rambling ends unfinished. You blink, you don’t say anything. And then:

“Oh.”

At this point, he doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything. You fill the silence for him. 

“Oh, Luke. I told you not to go in there because …”

His eyebrows lift. “Because what?” 

You take a breath. “The plant, the Venus Fly, the pollen is an aphrodisiac.”

Luke knows what an aphrodisiac is, he isn’t dumb, but he still asks for clarification. And when you explain, he asks you to dumb it down. Even then, he blinks at you. Because you were right. His nosiness caused this. 

He’s considering pitying himself whenever you suggest the one proposed solution, the only solution the Demeter and Apollo kids have been workshopping together ever since acquiring the plant from another kid's quest. 

And when your solution comes, Luke determines that there is no way he could pity himself whenever he is in the position he’s been dreaming of for literal years.

He might not have envisioned this particular scenario, as his fantasies usually entailed the two of you alone in a bed not at Camp Half-Blood. But something about this makes him enjoy it more. Out in nature, in the open with many possibilities of being caught surrounding you both. His lips on yours, his lips surrounding yours, as he kisses you messily. 

There is something perverse about the idea of getting to fuck you out in the open, gods willing. He didn’t think it was something he would be into, but it’s all he can think about when he’s rutting against you. 

He breathes you in. “I’ve …” he takes a moment, rubbing his stiff cock against your crotch once more. He groans as he speaks. “I’ve been thinking about this for so long.” 

You hum, your hands fisting the part of the back of Luke’s shirt that isn’t covered by his armor. 

“Luke,” you start and your voice is already full of hesitance. Luke isn’t sure he wants to hear what you have to say, but he knows it would be wrong not to. He busies himself with kissing your neck and under your jaw. 

“It’s the pollen talking,” you tell him. “You’re not yourself. You’re basica-“ He bites down onto where he can feel your pulse thrumming under your skin. You gasp, loud and broken, before continuing. “You’re basically drugged.” 

Somewhere deep down Luke knows that there’s logic in your statement, there usually is logic in your statements, besides during those times where you would say whatever came to your mind in the late hours of the night. But he doesn’t care, logic be damned. 

He knows that he’s felt this way—or at least in the range of this way—for a while now. The pollen has just given him the confidence to act on his desires. 

While the pollen has given him confidence, it hasn’t given him experience. 

He sloppily kisses along your neck and jaw, not necessarily knowing what he’s doing but he knows he’s expected to suck at one point, so he does. He just wants to please. 

You don’t react much to his lips on your skin, so he lifts a hand and slides it under your shirt and armor. The chest piece doesn’t allow for much maneuvering and Luke frowns against your skin before he separates completely to pull the armor off himself. 

He knows the clasps on the metal as well as he knows clasps on his favorite pair of pants. Yet his hands fumble. Excitement and the effects of the pollen, he reasons. But his face becomes warm from something other than the two, something he would rather not fully acknowledge. Especially not when he’s about to get his dick wet in the warmth of the one person he’s wanted since he was old enough to actually understand sex. 

You ask Luke if he wants your help with your usual teasing tone, but Luke doesn’t take kindly to it. As soon as he has the chest piece off, he has your shirt following it, and then his lips are back on yours. 

If even possible, this kiss is heavier. Firmer. Meaner. 

He still doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he calls onto the one other time he’d made out with someone. He remembers how he had been instructed to use his tongue and lick into his partner's mouth (a boy from the Ares cabin who stopped coming to camp a year ago). He had been kind to Luke when he didn’t know what he was doing, but now Luke feels like he needs to prove himself. He wants to prove himself. He wants to impress you. 

What results is a clash of teeth and tongue. It’s messy, sloppy, and slobbery. 

Luke likes it that way. 

You pull away first. 

Not much has been done, but you look a mess. Your lips are coated in saliva, probably yours and Luke’s, and pride floods his chest. You look flushed, too, and Luke sincerely hopes he’ll be able to amplify the emotion on your face soon thereafter. 

“Slow down. Luke.” Your words are soft, gentle, and kind. Just like you. Just like your hands that card through his still-wet hair. 

He winces, and not from the way your fingers snag on a cluster of curls. Wrongly assuming the cause of his sound, you apologize and smooth the patch of hair down. Your hands instead slide down Luke’s shoulders and he tries not to frown at the change. 

“Sorry,” he admits. He gnaws on his bottom lip, already missing the feeling of yours, and finds himself continuing. “I haven’t really made out with anyone since …”

You nod, lips pulling up in the corners. “Theo?” Luke nods. “I know. We tell each other everything, remember?”

Not everything. 

No one else is privy to the dreams Luke has about you. He has never told you, or anyone else, about all of the times he would fist his cock and chant your name in the showers late at night. In fact, when you would ask what took him so long, he would make up a lie about taking advantage of the hot water and solitude. While it was only a white lie, it was a lie nonetheless. 

The innocent and naive look on your face as you accepted his lie by omission only made Luke’s cock harder. 

You’re staring up at him now with a look different enough, but his reaction is the same.  Your eyes hold interest, intrigue, a little bit of mischief, perhaps. You look sure of yourself, like you’ve done this and in this capacity multiple times before. But Luke knows about your experience, nearly the exact same as his save for a few details he wishes to erase. 

When you had dished on your sexual history, Luke felt jealousy stirring deep in his stomach. He had been with other people, a guy and a girl, but that was in hopes of getting his mind off of you. Meanwhile, you had been with other people out of personal interest and not self-deluded necessity. 

Either way, your experience is almost the same as Luke’s, and knowing so makes it easier for him to take the lead. 

He kisses you again but he tries to go slower. Everything in him screams for him to speed up, to take you how he pleased, but he breathes and pushes the thoughts aside. 

Taking it slow pays off when you work the armor off of Luke’s torso (without much difficulty at all), and then slide your hands under his orange shirt to rest your palms against his abs. The feeling of your skin against his is striking, even though the touch isn’t much at all. Pathetically, Luke is affected by the meaning more than the physicality. 

“What do you feel now?” You ask him after pulling away from his lips. 

Luke’s immediate reflex is to say “horny”. 

You roll your eyes and absentmindedly scratch your nails against his abs. When he keens, he figures he’s hornier than even he thought. 

“I mean other than that. Your skin is warm so I’m assuming you’re still nearing a fever, at least. Are you lightheaded? Nauseous? Anything?”

Luke feels like he’s been slapped in the face. You were asking about his symptoms like a healer. Like an Apollo kid. He couldn’t help but wonder if you were only touching him to gauge his temperature. Were you only doing this—kissing him—to keep his fever warded off? Did you even want this? 

Rationally, he knows that you would do anything to help him. You’re his best friend, after all. But he wants you to want this, otherwise it would mean nothing.  Otherwise, he wouldn’t even begin to hold a torch to your previous partners. He would be the one you laid with out of moral obligation and not interest. 

He hadn’t been feeling nauseous before, but his throat starts to construct as if preparing to trigger his gag reflex. 

He hasn’t responded and you’re looking at him inquisitively. 

“Nauseous,” he starts. “Hot. Horny. Are you only doing this to keep me from dying?” The question messily tumbles out without him noticing. 

You run your tongue over your teeth. “Yes. But there’s also personal benefits involved.” 

Usually, Luke could decipher your maze-like answers. But he’s so hot and worked up and lacking an immense amount of patience. 

“So you want to fuck me?” 

Luke doesn’t continue his work until you respond. 

“Yes, Luke. I want to fuck you.” 

He has your shirt over your head in less than a minute. The button on your shorts is undone 30 seconds after that. He has completely forgotten about your plea to go slower, but even if he did remember he wouldn’t be able to comply. 

He needs to feel you. All of you. Or else he might collapse then and there. 

His hands run over your shoulders and torso gratefully, only appearing as the opposite whenever he runs into your bra (a sports bra, as he had assumed). As soon as he has the straps pulled down, he latches his lips onto the newly revealed skin. 

Distantly, Luke thinks he would have liked to have been able to lay you back. He wants to see you laid out before him while you’re completely at his mercy. Luckily, he has learned to adapt. He has been dealt unfavorable cards in his life, and turned them into something worthy. He plans to do the same here and now. 

As he sinks to his knees, he pulls your shorts down with him. You don’t have to be told to step out of them, but as soon as you do, you’re looking down at Luke with your eyebrows raised. 

“Are you sure? I haven’t showered since yesterday and I’m really sweaty.” 

Luke doesn’t pay any mind to your words. As you’re speaking, he already has his fingers forced under the elastic fabric of your panties. 

“I’m sure.” 

He pulls the fabric down. 

“You don’t have to.” 

“I want to.” 

He pulls your leg over his shoulder, bringing your cunt straight to his face. 

He has never gotten this far with someone before, he has never even seen examples of what to do in this position. He could back out. He could set your leg back down and only get his dick wet. But you smell so good, and you’re practically glistening in the sun, and you’re staring down at him expectantly so Luke slowly leans forward, sticks his tongue out, and gets to work. 

‎

‎

By the time Luke feels even a bit satiated, the sun has started to descend to its destination below the horizon, creating a soft blue hue over the sky. 

You’re panting under him, your back and arms painted with dirt, just a bit smudged on your cheek and a few flecks of it strewn throughout your hair. Your stomach rises and falls with your breaths, drawing Luke’s attention to the fresh cum laying there. There’s some dried cum on your back, and just the smallest smudge at the corner of your lips. Luke doesn’t think much before he licks his thumb and wipes away the white crust from your mouth. 

He sits back on his haunches and sighs with his head tilted to the sky. His hands rest on his thighs with an exorbitant amount of self control, as he desperately wishes to wrap his fingers around his semi-erect cock and jerk himself to another orgasm. 

He thinks that most of the pollen has left his system by now, and at this point the desire he feels is natural. It’s the same desire he has felt for you for a while now, only amplified by the memory of what the real thing was like with you. It’s addicting. Luke truly cannot get enough, even though he has been out here with you for hours. Somewhere along the way, one of the teams won capture the flag. Luke wasn’t sure which one, but the triumphant yells in the distance alerted him of a victory. Somewhere between his third orgasm and your fourth, the conch for lunch blew off into the distance, but Luke had absolutely no concern for satisfying his physical hunger. He was too focused on the sight in front of him. 

When he brings his vision back down, you’re sitting with your legs pulled in your chest and your arms wrapped around your calves. 

“We should clean up and go have dinner,” you tell him, your voice weak and hoarse. 

Fear strikes Luke still. You’re avoiding his eyes, staring down at the dirt, and speaking in a soft voice. 

He shuffles closer to you, reaches out to touch you, and then he reconsiders. You take a deep breath, and Luke rests his hand on your elbow. 

“Okay. Are you okay? I know that was a lot.”

You look at him and Luke feels a bit better, because while your eyes are a bit distant, you don’t look upset. 

“I’ll be okay. ‘m just tired. But what about you, are you fine?” 

There is still that nagging in the back of his head, telling him to take you one more time, but his logical part knows that you wouldn’t be able to handle it. He knows that you’ve had enough. Which means he, too, has had enough. 

“I’m good.” He leans forward and presses a kiss into your hairline. He stands, pulls his boxers onto his lower half, and offers you his hand. “C’mon.” 

You let Luke help you redress and hold his hand as he leads you back to camp the back way. You two come out of the forest right by the showers, where Luke tells you to wait while he does his best to sneakily run back to the cabins. He grabs himself a change of clothes, then sneaks into the Demeter cabin where he does the same for you. 

He knows that he has just seen all of your intimate parts for hours on end, but holding your panties in his hand makes his ears redden. Blood threatens to rush down to his crotch but he fills his head with the most undesirable images until he reaches you. 

Two showers are started, you and Luke stand back to back, and Luke enters his shower. 

When the bathroom is covered in steam and you’ve both used the remnants of the hot water, you and Luke redress and reach the dining pavilion just in time for dinner. 

He falls into the routine of a caring counselor easily. He answers insistent questions about his previous whereabouts with a passing “I was sick” that earns just enough sympathy and stops the questions all together. A few times he looks across the way to see you already looking at him. Instead of dropping his eyes or teasing you with the slyest middle finger he could muster, he smiles at you just slyly enough to not raise suspicion. 

When offerings have been given, and Luke feels full in multiple ways, he finds you at the bonfire and sits with his leg flushed to yours. 

He had just begun to think that all of the pollen was out until you rested your hand on his knee and he felt a jump in his stomach. 

Goddamn it. 

[cameronluvr]

BABY DADDY — exbf!dad!rafe x mom!reader

summary: you have a baby with your ex, rafe, but when you arrive early to pick her up from his place, you discover drugs on the table…

warnings: toxic!rafe, arguing, mentions of cocaine, rafe being manipulative and a total asshole, cussing, angst, lmk if i missed anymore!

: ̗̀➛ 𝓶𝔂 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

your daughter is the most perfect little girl you could’ve asked for. she’s sweet, funny, sassy, and so beautiful. the older she got, the more she began to look like rafe. she has his bright blue eyes, his dirty blonde hair, the same shaped eyes and nose… she was his twin. and you were unsure whether or not you liked it so much. you love your daughter more than anything in the world, but gosh, you wish you didn’t see your ex in her every time you look at her.

rafe had her over the weekend, so when sunday evening approached, you left to pick her up. upon arriving at his place, you knock on the door and wait for it to open, but suspiciously, nobody answers. you frown, looking down at your phone to realise it was an hour earlier than you’d usually come to pick the baby up.

you knock again, only this time hearing footsteps rushing to the door. it swings open, and rafe greets you with a smile. “hey,” he moves out of the way, motioning for you to come inside.

“hi,” you walk inside, looking around. “where is she?”

“oh, she’s in bed.” he tells you, scratching his head. “already? she isn’t usually tired at this time” your brows furrow in confusion, it was only 6 PM. “yeah, well, she wanted to go to bed” rafe shrugs. you ignore him, walking to his bedroom to grab your daughter.

slowly opening the door, you see your baby laying awake in her crib, making you grin and walk over to her. “hi, baby girl” you softly say, reaching down to pick her up. she raises her arms, making grabby hands at you. you giggle as you pick her up, holding her on your side.

“mommy missed you so much,” you plant kisses on her cheek, making her laugh. rafe is stood by the door at this point, watching you both. you turn around and notice him, “did you have fun with daddy, hm?” you ask her, gently bouncing her up and down on your hip.

“yeah we did. we went to the park, and the beach, and we went to see your grandpa and aunt’s, didn’t we, baby?” rafe says, walking over to you both to give his daughter a kiss on the head. he loves her so much, you can see that. “ooh, that sounds fun” you giggle, looking at your daughter with a grin on your face.

“uh huh, we had the most fun” rafe smiles, tickling his daughter in your arms. hearing her adorable laugh made you both giggle in adoration.

“right, girl, we gotta’ go.” you tell your baby as if she can understand what you’re saying. you walk out of the room with her in your arms as rafe follows behind. you start to gather her things before noticing something in the living room.

on the table lies a fresh line of cocaine, with the bag it came from next to it. “is that?…” you ask, carefully setting your daughter down on the floor to let her play for a minute. rafe stops what he’s doing to look at what you’re looking at, both of your faces dropping.

“are you serious?!” you raise your voice at him, but not loud enough to scare or startle the baby. “what?” he asks so stupidly. “wh— what?!” your eyebrows raise and eyes widen in anger. “your one year old fucking daughter is in the next room and… wait, is that why you put her to bed?” you ask, connecting the dots.

he put her to bed early so he could feed to his drug habit.

“relax, she’s fine, isn’t she?” he asks, frowning as if you’re overreacting. “she’s fine? yeah, sure, that makes it all okay, rafe!!” you respond with pure sarcasm and rage. the two of you start to argue and bicker back and forth as your baby takes no notice. she’s too young to understand, and instead ignores you both to play with her toys.

“what if you got up to do something and she went over there, rafe?!” you yell, but again, not too loudly. “well she didn’t!” he argues back. “well what if she did, huh?!” you’ve never been this angry before, your face just inches away from his.

“that’s why she’s in my roo—”

“that’s why?! so she wasn’t even tired, you just put her to bed so you could ignore her while you sniff your fucking lines?!” you place your hands on your forehead out of stress.

“i wasn’t ignoring her!” rafe yells back.

“do you do this every weekend? is this why you took so long to answer the door?!” you ask him. “no, jesus, y/n! chill the fuck out” you stress him out now, watching as he runs his hand through his hair.

“chill out? you want me to chill out, after doing that shit around our daughter?!” you squint in anger at his stupidity. how could he be so selfish? to you and your daughter.

“i’m not doing it around her! i’m doing it while she’s in the next room, no big deal. i’m not hurting anyone” he argues, defending himself like a cocaine addiction is normal.

“oh, that’s fine then. it’s no big deal, you’re right. come on, y/d/n, we’re leaving.” you sarcastically roll your eyes before turning around to pick your daughter up from the ground.

“don’t think for a second that you’re seeing her next week, you can fuck off.” you face rafe for a moment before grabbing the baby’s bag with your other hand, and walking over to the front door.

“y/n,” rafe says, quickly following you to the door. “what?!” you snap, making your baby jump in your arms. “don’t be like that, i’m sorry!” rafe pleads, begging you not to keep his daughter away from him. he may love her, but boy is he stupid.

“rafe, this is the type of shit you could go to prison for, and get her taken away from us! is that what you want?!” you shout at him, not noticing as your baby begins to cry.

she ignored the fight when she was sat on the floor, but now she’s face to face with you both, witnessing the argument firsthand, which scared her.

“oh, baby,” you quickly divert your attention to her after hearing her cry, attempting to comfort her. “see what you did? come here” rafe blames you, taking his baby from your arms before you could protest.

“me?!” you ask him, the audacity. “yes, you!” rafe says, rocking the baby back and forth in his arms to calm her down, shushing her. “give her back to me, rafe” you demand, holding your arms out.

“no, you just made her cry.” he shakes his head, moving your daughter away from you as tears roll down her cheeks. “it was your fault!” you say to him, getting frustrated now.

“yeah, it’s always my fault. you want her to be raised around this? around her mom constantly yelling and being fucking crazy?” he asks as if you’re the problem.

“i— oh my god” you shake your head. “rafe if you don’t give her back to me, i swear to god…” you clench your fists. “what? you gonna hit me? with her in my arms? you could go to prison for that, too, you know” he tuts, shaking his head at you. he is the master manipulator in your life, you don’t know how you ever had a kid with him.

you love your daughter to death, but sometimes you just wish she had a different father.

“oh, fuck you, rafe.” you look at him with fiery eyes, almost as if you could murder him right now. “see how your mommy talks to me, baby?” he diverts his attention to the little girl in his arms, making you roll your eyes.

“your mommy can be real crazy, huh?” he says, only this time looking at you while he says it, which ticked you off the edge. “don’t talk to me about crazy, you fucking psycho.” you raise your voice at him, reaching for your daughter, but he moves her away again.

“rafe! let me take her home!” you yell. “this is her home, too” he shrugs, not yelling as he gently shakes her in his arms, trying to prove that you are the problem, not her daddy. “so you’re just not gonna give her back to me, is that it?” you ask, dropping your arms and giving up trying to get your baby back.

“that’s right. you can leave, she’s staying with me.” he nods. “why? so you can lock her away in the bedroom again? while you snort your fucking life away?” you still argue.

“believe whatever you wanna’ believe, but i am not giving her back to you when you just scared her” rafe shakes his head, keeping your daughter away from you which angered you deeply.

“it was your fault!!!” you say again, like you said before, but he never listens. “yeah, yeah” he rolls his eyes, turning to walk away from you. “where are you going?!” you raise your voice.

“we are going away from you so you can calm your fuckin’ psycho ass down. makin’ a baby cry like that, what’s wrong with you?” he says, still walking away with the baby.

there’s no winning with rafe. you get the blame for acting crazy, starting fights and trying to protect your daughter. you just dread to think what he will tell her when she gets older.

“you know what? i’m done. i’m leaving. i’ll be back for MY baby, asshole.” you shout, opening the front door and slamming it as you walk out. rafe always manipulated you, always got his way with you… you should’ve considered that before pushing his baby out a year ago.

this is SHORT and i really don’t know if i like it or not… hopefully you guys liked it! lmk what yall think in the comments. thank you so much for all the support, i LOVE you guys. <333

@cameronluvr

[princessbrunette]

CRUSH ♡

… based loosely on the song crush by ethel cain ⊹˚. ♡

pairing: linecook!jj maybank + sweetheart!reader

synopsis: you’re head over heels for your bad-boy coworker, jj— the linecook for the outerbanks beachside restaurant you waitress at. a customer spilling coffee over your uniform catalysts a chain of events.

cw: a gun but no violence, shitty customers, jj being jj, smut.

You didn’t really know about restaurant employee culture until you started your job as a waitress. Stereotypes, things that fate would just simply decide to come true in every single restaurant no matter what. Waitresses were either the sweetest people you’d ever met or the bitchiest, managers had favourites and if you weren’t one of them they treat you like shit, the kid who gets stuck on dishwasher duty was always younger than everyone and fell in love with all the waitresses— uber specific and odd stuff. Oh, and that linecooks were troubled, or whores.

JJ Maybank was more troubled than the latter. Well, you’d hoped so anyways. You’d had a crush on the blonde linecook from your very first day, a quieter morning at the beginning of spring when the beachside restaurant was criminally understaffed. Your manager had appointed him to show you around before either of you had even made it inside, the tough older woman calling him out as he arrived to work, climbing off his bike, chewing on a toothpick with headphones over his ears. Your heart had fluttered when he bantered with the older woman, pointing to the music-playing-muffs over his ears, mouthing an ‘I can’t hear you, sorry’ when she’d approached him.

You’d felt embarrassed almost, like you were taking up his time. He was clearly comfortable here, had a good relationship with everybody— even the manager who seemed to hate the world tenfold. She’d yanked off his headphones and jut her thumb towards you as he stared her down with a mischievous grin.

“Maybank, I need you to show around the newbie— uh, what’s your name again sweetheart?” She spins to you, and for the first time JJ’s eyes flicker towards you, brows jumping up just a hair, a micro-expression that only you could hold onto for hope. Hope that he might be a little interested. You speak your name, and he’s swerving around the manager in his white tshirt, apron tied lazily around his waist, hung down, not even wearing it over his shirt like he’s meant to, black backwards cap over blonde messy hair.

“Well it is very nice to meet you ma’am.” He juts out a hand with a stupidly large grin that makes you feel even more shy.

You remember that day so clearly, the blonde showing you the ropes, practically training you whilst your manager chain smoked out the back. You remembered how you hadn’t had a proper school-girl style crush like this since forever, and one day into working at the restaurant you were already head over heels for the loud and hyperactive Pogue.

A few months down the line, and your bond had blossomed. Well, somewhat — it was a busy restaurant, lots of waitresses and cooks and customers. There wasn’t always time for chit-chat and flirting. Which sometimes you were grateful for, plates clanking awkwardly in your hands as you spot a more confident waitress trying her luck with him, hair twirled around a long finger. You were delusional enough to believe JJ seemed politely disinterested at the least, choosing to busy himself with ruffling the top of your head with his knuckles as you pass by him, hiding your smile at his acknowledgment.

You wouldn’t say the two of you were friends. You’d hoped not anyway, dreading being stuck in the friendzone with the guy you’d spent months pining after. You couldn’t be friends because you’d never hung out with him outside of work, not that you’d deny him but he’d never asked. You’d seen him around, don’t get it twisted — that group of friends of his; the brunette one who always seemed to be the talk of the town, the darker skinned boy who seemed too smart to be slumming it on a boat smoking weed, and a girl — who laughed at all of JJ’s jokes and threw glares to anyone she deemed too ‘Kook-y’. That was some serious intel, but you swear up and down you weren’t a stalker— just paying attention when you’d see him outside of the workplace.

JJ made it clear you were his favourite waitress. Well, he’d said it himself, holding a plate just out of your reach when you’d come to collect an order, playful smirk on his face as he stares down at you. “Can I have my order?” you pretend to hate it, hiding your smile as you huff, reaching out.

“I dunno, I could almost swear there’s a magic word that you’re missing there, girlie. Y’wanna help me out with that? Orrrr…” He tilts his head, playing dumb and you let the smile free— cheeks pushing up as you gaze at his stupid expression.

“Please, JJ.” You offer sweetly instead of sassing him, which makes his heart clench a little because you were just an absolute sweetheart by nature. He lowers the plate, hovering it above your palm and giving you a more serious look.

“Plates hot, alright? Better be careful with those delicate mittens.” You roll your eyes bashfully and he presses it into your palm. The plate was warm at best, it seeming that JJ would say anything just to keep the conversation going longer than it needed to.

“Thank you.” You smile once it was in your hand and he nods, faux solemnly as he backs off back to his work station, ignoring the knowing stare from his partner linecook.

“So polite, s’why you’re my favourite, princess.” He points with a wink and you turn away before he can see how flustered it made you. Princess, are you kidding me? It’s like he wanted to make you drop the plate. He watches the door swing as you head back out into the bustling restaurant, and jumps a little in surprise when he turns back to come face to face with another linecooks smirk.

“Playin’ favourites, huh Maybank?”

The blonde itches his cheek, bashful with a shrug— going back to chopping a carrot like he was before.

“Yeah well— doesn’t everyone do that here?” He tries to brush it off, head swivelling to glance back at the door, just incase you overheard.

“Yeah… yeah, chose a pretty one though, I’ll give you that. Lemme know when you’re done with it, I wanna play.” He speaks with a stomach-turning smile, and certainly doesn’t miss the way JJ’s jaw clenches, knife nearly going not only through the carrot but the chopping board too. Dont cause a scene now, Jayj.

JJ was troubled, like you’d said. You’d heard whispers from waitresses or friends of a friend outside of work — things about his father always being in jail, the blonde himself ending up in overnight cells a series of times. You’d heard about fights, his name always ringing close to the scene, even car chases and rumours about his run ins with big time criminals— but you wasn’t sure how verifiable any of these were.

It didn’t seem totally far fetched though, the Pogue occasionally showing up to his shift with his head down, a new bruise splattered on his cheek bone or a gnarly gash. He had one the day things changed, a cut through his lip, gone almost black from blood constantly drying after he’d assumably lick it open. From a glance, it almost looked like a lip-ring, and he sported it well with a large greenish yellow bruise beside his eye over his temple. You wish you felt close enough to ask where they came from, but knew that would be prying. You didn’t even wanna listen in when you’d see the manager nod him into her office to give him ‘the talk’ and ask about it presumably, which you’d also guessed she’d gained no information from as he’d leave her office looking casual whilst she still wore that slightly frustrated and worried look on her face.

Everyone seemed to be in a weird mood that day, even the customers. It wasn’t really his fault, the man somehow backing into you abruptly enough for you to spill an old container of coffee all down yourself. Well, to rephrase — it was an accident, which was actually the best case scenario considering you’d had drinks poured down you on purpose for making them wrong before.

You get that awful coil of embarrassment in your stomach when you walk into the kitchen, beige staining right through your usual pristine uniform and falling in droplets off the ends of your hair. JJ sees the pout before the stains, and it comes as no surprise to the other linecooks when he rushes over like prince charming.

“You good? Someone do that to you?” He’s already trying to bound past you to go and ‘handle the situation’ (AKA, kick them out) but you shake your head— not really upset just tired, and now cold thanks to the old coffee soaking through to your skin.

“It was an accident. I don’t have anything to change into so I don’t know if I should just… go home, or something.” You hold your hands out in frustration, looking down at yourself.

“Oh, nah— don’t sweat it. Got a spare shirt in my locker you can wear. S’just a white t-shirt, should do the trick.” He steps backwards.

“But it’s not uniform?” You furrow your brows and he huffs out a chuckle at you always being such a stickler for following the rules. “Our manager will have my head, surely.”

“Think she’d rather that than you walkin’ round smellin’ like cold brew.” He fishes through his pockets and tosses you a small key with a red triangle keychain on the end, the key to his locker in the staff cloakroom. “Help yourself.”

“Thanks Jayj.” You smile, excusing yourself shyly at the use of the nickname you’ve heard others use on him but always chickened out on. He noticed, because he shows all his teeth when he smiles and nods, turning back around.

The cloakroom always smells weird— like mulch and rubber, a cold and windowless room with a bench and a wall of seafoam lockers. You flip the key in your hand, spotting the number on the back and match it to the lockers. Wearing JJ’s shirt, huh — you smile to yourself, feeling giddy and stupid at the butterflies that brush their wings against the inside of your stomach. He was just doing you a favour, sure — but you got to prance around wearing him all day, and that was enough to fuel your delusion. You off your stained shirt, leaving you in just a small and flimsy tank top that you usually wear beneath it incase of accidents like this.

You open the locker, and something black immediately drops out onto the floor, echoing loudly and bouncing once a tiny bit by your feet. The weird clinical lighting of the cloakroom casts a dark shadow below where your head searches down for it, so you move slightly— brows furrowing when you see the shape of it.

Your brain clearly hasn’t processed or caught up with just quite what you’re looking at as you bend down, lips parted as you pick the item up in your hand, standing back to full height once more. In your hand, you stared directly at a gun. A pistol, to be precise. You seem to be in shock, the weapon glued to your hand despite anyone being able to walk in and get you fired and or reported to the police within a matter of seconds. You turn the weapon in your hand in fascination, whispering a “What the…” to yourself.

JJ leans against the doorway with a forearm, just now remembering what resided in that very locker other than the shirt he so generously offered. He’s distracted for a moment by your skin, the skin on the back of your arms and your back as you stand with your uniform shirt bunched in your hand, until of course he spots what’s held in your other hand and physically winces.

“Shit, uh—” JJ vocalises and your head snaps around, sighing in relief once you see that it’s just him. You’re back to marvelling in shock at the item in an instant, ogling between him and the weapon. “So, that’s — that’s not what it looks like—”

“A gun?” You whisper the second word, looking up at him with wide eyes and he points the pistol downwards with his finger when you hold it accidentally facing him.

“Well, okay I mean yes — it’s a gun, but I had no choice. Had to momentarily keep it here, alright? I took it in for a friend and —”

“What are you, some kind of hitman?” You shake your head, earrings jangling a little with your stressed little gesture which would usually warm his heart if he wasn’t focused on deescalating.

“Okay, first of all— why don’t I take this from you missy,” He eases the gun out of your hands and accidentally fumbles it inside his locker, the weapon clattering against the echoey walls making him let out a quiet ‘whoops’ before placing a black gym bag on top of it. He turns to you. “Secondly, no okay I’m not a hitman— I haven’t ever shot a person with this thing.”

“Then… why do you have it?” You furrow your brows, seeming to have calmed down a little, which was relieving despite your reaction being totally valid.

“W—you know, gotta stay strapped. Protect my people.” He shrugs, attempting nonchalance and your eye twitches, realising how different the two of you are. JJ, bad boy with a gun in his locker— and you, straight arrow waitress. “Look all m’saying is if you told me someone was messing with you… I wouldn’t hesitate.”

You stare at him dumbfounded, wondering what on Earth he was going through to lead him to owning a gun, but you daren’t ask— even now. You eye him, brows knitting cutely.

“And you’re sure you’re not some serial killer?” You ask, folding your arms. Mostly joking. Mostly.

“Yeah nah I couldn’t do the whole choppin’ up dead bodies thing, m’pretty squeamish n’I got this thing with my gag reflex where y’know, I — I just—” He gestures to his throat, head bobbing with a preemptive gag but sees the way you’re staring at him like he’d just stepped off a space ship from Mars and decides against the bit, clearing his throat and glancing into his locker. “Enough of that uh— why don’t I go ahead and grab you that shirt you were after…” He reaches inside his locker, pulling out balled up white shirt, quickly turning it back from being inside out.

“There y’go…” He murmurs as he does so to no one in particular before shoving his arms inside and pulling the head hole wider before stuffing you inside it, tugging it until your head pops out, still staring at him a little dumbfounded. “Peekaboo.” He smiles nervously before leaving you to shove your own arm holes through, pulling it down over your tank top. He awkwardly watches before you hand him back his key and he locks his locker once more, glancing around at you.

“So about the—”

“Your secrets safe with me JJ. Thanks for the shirt.”

You swan around in the white fabric like it’s a ball gown for the rest of the day. Delusional didn’t feel like the right word, no— he gave you the shirt, which in your head is flirting— handing you the opportunity to daydream about being his girlfriend and wearing his clothes all the time. Each time you moved you could smell him on you, that faint smell of cigarettes and just him — reminding you of the times you’ve caught him on a rough shift fumbling for a pack of Marlboro Red’s and heading out the back door to be angsty for a while before returning with a plastered on smile. You bite your lip, staring into space as you rub the material between your fingers, waiting for a table to flag you down, excited for the next time you could go into the kitchen and see him… have him see you, wearing his shirt only hoping it hot-wires his brain with some sort of romantic association. Oh, JJ Maybank. He just made you so… so…

“Ugh, mmph JJ!” You cry out, later that night. Guilty, you ended up in nothing but the t-shirt and two fingers stuffed into your weeping cunt. You felt kind of perverse, despite the million promises to yourself to wash the shirt immediately after to return to him— but also there was just something painfully arousing about touching yourself wearing it— every layer beneath it removed to have your hardened nipples peak beneath the thin white fabric, tousled and jostled up where your ribcage was as you grind your digits inside of you.

You were home alone, like usual — which gave you the perfect opportunity to moan his name. Too horny to care about the 0.05% chance he’s strolling in your area and walking past the window, hearing. Even the idea of that aroused you further in the moment, wondering just what he’d think if he knew the sweet and harmless waitress was defiling her cunt in his name, in his shirt. You think about best case scenario, the blonde with his rough hand around his cock— and you knew it was rough from the way it felt when he’d touch your arm or brush against your fingers when handing you a dish. Rough from working on his bike and handling hot food and other Maybank shenanigans that still lead him to fist at his dick in his room at night thinking of you, you and only you.

You cum in your palm and feel disgraced. Poor JJ. You’re a total pervert and you must wash that shirt.

Except you don’t, and you fall asleep— returning to work in your spare uniform the next day. Empty handed. JJ doesn’t notice, hell — he doesn’t care. He’s stacked up with so many orders you almost feel bad even though it’s not your fault. Maybe you’re still riding off the guilt of masturbating in his shirt. There’s a sick sense of pride that twists in your gut when you look at him though. Boyish, sometimes thoughtless blonde with no idea that you came so hard moaning his name just a matter of hours before facing him again. You catch him in a quieter moment, leaning over to his station with a stressed expression to tell him that you forgot to bring his shirt back, to which he just responds with a shrug and a careless wave that read as ‘It’s cool.’ That was the JJ you knew. Cool, calm, didn’t give a shit. You got butterflies at the minute gesture. God, get a grip.

The next time it comes up, it’s because he brings it up. Catching you on your break, a cheekful of pasta he’d made for you to quickly cram down before your manager gets onto you for slacking off— JJ approaches your little table outside, blonde hair feathery and light in the sun. “Howdy there, shirt thief.” He grins lightheartedly, pulling out the other chair on the small circle table you sat at and straddling it backwards, leaning his arms on the backrest.

You nearly choke on your pasta at the speed you go to explain yourself— way to not make yourself seem guilty. “It’s in the washing machine, I literally just kept forgetting I’m sorry JJ.” You look all sweet and worried in the way that makes him wanna pinch your cheeks, so he fiddles with his lighter instead, flicking it on and off in his grasp.

“Nah you’re good.” He chuckles, staring out at the water the restaurant overlooked. It was a windier day, and even from where you sat you could hear the loud roaring of distant waves. “Hey uh— you want a ride home on the old bike? I can come in and grab it if like— if that’s cool.” He suggests, almost seeming a bit hesitant, nervous even.

“Oh! Yeah, I mean I’d have to stick it in the dryer first but you’re free to hang out whilst it dries… unless you really gotta go then, you can have your shirt back damp, I guess.” You mirror the nervous energy tenfold, practically stumbling over yourself to not sound as eager as you were. JJ, in your house.

“Yeah, sweet. Cool cool cool cool.” He bops his head, drumming on the table before suddenly his name was called from inside.

“Maybank! These fish aren’t gonna fry themselves, you know that right?” The tough, unmistakable chain smoker voice of your manager rings through the air and JJ winces theatrically for your entertainment, making you giggle the same way a child might after a party clown does something stupid. It was kind of pathetic, but atleast JJ found it endearing.

You weren’t lying about the shirt, thankfully. Honest — the JJ smell was gone so you’d tossed it in the washing machine before you’d head out onto your shift, planning on finally (reluctantly) returning it the next day.

He pushes himself up to leave, before pausing and leaning over the table towards you. You freeze, and he brings his thumb to your cheek — swiping away a speck of sauce from the pasta that has splattered into your skin from how greedily you wolfed down his food. “Lemme just… get that for you.” He mutters as he does so, turning his thumb around to show you the sauce stain that had transferred to his skin and ease your confusion.

If that wasn’t bad enough, he holds your gaze as he leans back, bringing his thumb to his mouth, cleaning off the sauce. Oh, you sick bastard. He doesn’t even try and hide his smirk— and you stare dumbly at the space he stood even after he’s long gone.

The shift dragged on, tip tapping your feet whenever you stood still for too long, excited bubbles in your stomach fizzing up like shaken pop everytime you thought about the linecook. It felt like hours longer than usual, but finally — the end of your shift came. JJ’s had ended twenty minutes earlier, being replaced by another chef whose plates were always too hot and spoke too loud, making the last stretch of your working hour even tougher. You thought JJ might have forgotten about your little arrangement, just taking off to head home or to go and smoke on the rickety little boat you’d seen him on— but lo and behold, you step out the doors to that wretched place and there he is, leaning on his bike like something out of an 80s movie.

“No helmet?” You’re grinning by the time you reach him, barely containing your excitement. You don’t think you’ve even been on the back of one of these bikes before, let alone with the boy you’re crushing on. JJ scrunches his nose, wincing.

“Wasn’t countin’ on having anyone else on board today, that’s my bad.” He helps you climb on, ensuring you’re sat securely. “I’m a good driver, you’ll be alright. Just uh— hold on tight and I’ll avoid any big potholes, yeah?” He reaches back, taking your arms and wrapping them around his middle, forcing you against his warm back. He’d probably done that for plenty of people, the way it came naturally to him— but in that moment you didn’t care, just nodding as you leant more against him. You tell him your address, and he recognises it, someone he knows living near by. With that, the two of you are off.

You’re truly in bliss, closing your eyes with your cheek pressed to his back, wind whipping past your face. He is a good driver, and you dare even let yourself believe he’s being extra careful with you on board, none of the harsh turns or skids you’ve seen him do on the streets alone. Your cheeks start to ache with how much you’re smiling.

“You all good back there my lil’ backpack?” He pats your leg in a friendly manner at a stop light and you giggle, embarrassed with how fast goosebumps break out.

“Yeah, this is fun!” You yell at an unnecessary volume to be heard over the running engine, making him chuckle and glance round at you.

“Good, that’s good.”

You’re almost sad when the ride is over, his wheels coming to a slow as he parks up haphazardly beside your front lawn. You’re quick to pat your head down, knowing that journey must have you looking dishevelled at best and hop off the bike, patting the pocket of your shorts for your keys.

“My humble abode awaits.” You chirp, cringing afterwards but he smirks and follows you regardless, pulling up his pants boyishly as he stalks behind you up to your front door. Inside your head is a chant, one that consists of hoping and praying your parents wouldn’t be home so you didn’t have to do the whole awkward explanation thing, not that you didn’t have a totally valid excuse — and you were grown, so interacting with boys shouldn’t be the awkward dilemma that it was — but to them you were still their sweet girl regardless of age, and you’d like to keep it that way, which wouldn’t be possible being spotted ushering Pogue King JJ Maybank into your bedroom.

You unlock the door, calling out a ‘hello’ to be met with miraculous silence. JJ shuffles in behind you, closing the door for you and whistling quietly. “This place is pretty fancy, yeah… bet you got like, an electric toothbrush n’shit.” He comments, neck craning to look around as he follows you slowly through the house.

You huff a laugh out your nose, cheeks pressing upwards as you stroll through toward the kitchen. “An electric toothbrush?” You question.

“Yeaaah man, kook shit.” He peers nosily at the calendar, eyeing the events your family have coming up.

You spot a note pinned to the fridge and head towards it, shaking your head. “If I was a kook I wouldn’t be working at a restaurant getting coffee poured down me. Are electric toothbrushes the pinnacle of wealth in your eyes?” You laugh quietly, pulling the note off the fridge.

“Dude in eighth grade I lost my toothbrush and for a year all I had was my finger, some toothpaste and a dream.” He chats, appearing directly behind you and plucking the note from your hand. “Out ‘til late, pizza in fridge.” He reads blankly out loud and you take it back from him, tossing it aside.

“How’d you lose a toothbrush?” You chuckle, leading him out the kitchen.

“I be in situations.” He shrugs, following you to the short flight of stairs. To his core, JJ was truly just a guy— and took very little pride in watching you climb a few steps before he joined you so that he could check out your ass.

“Bet your dentist loved you.” You comment, glancing behind you at him making his eyes snap upwards guilty. He scoffs, wiping his hands on his pants like he was worried about dirtying up your house before grasping onto the bannister, skipping a few steps to hop up.

“Yeah, like I could afford one of those.”

On the landing, you point him towards the hallway, stepping back once you realised you were practically standing on top of him. He didn’t seem to notice, or mind, staring down at you for direction. “My rooms the last door on the right. I’m gonna go toss your shirt in the dryer, ‘kay?”

He nods once, strolling in the direction you pointed him. “Yes ma’am.”

You head to the laundry room and take a moment to collect yourself, sniffing his shirt to make sure it was properly clean before stuffing it into the dryer to turn it on. You lean against its circular door as it starts up, taking a breath before realising you left JJ Maybank alone in your bedroom.

You arrive at the door to your girly haven, immediately yanking a pair of panties off the ground and throwing them into a corner as you spot the blonde by the window, curiously looking around.

“So this is where the magic happens, I assume.” He glances at you, swiping his hat off his head and placing it on your dresser. Something about his gaze and the way it continually flickered to you, waiting for an answer suggested it was a genuine question. He was asking if you were seeing anyone, perhaps. You giggle.

“And if by magic you mean napping after work and reading books, yeah. It gets so magical in here, you wouldn’t believe it.” You sit on your bed, watching him semi-awkwardly pace infront of you, running hands through his hair before stuffing them into his pockets.

“Ah yeah, ha— forgot you were a real good girl. Should stay that way, I like it— and I mean like, there’s hella weirdos round here. Y’know? Better to… steer clear.” He rambles as you watch him with a smile. At work, the blonde seemed more calm, in his element— but here, in your terrain— he seemed slightly more on edge. You tried not to read into it.

Your stomach warms at the ‘good girl’ comment, lashes fluttering only a little before he’s distracted once more. You see him gazing ahead at the shelf above your vanity, opposite the bed where all your baby photos were lined up. His smile grows, and you see the cogs turn in his head.

He strides towards it in an instant, taking the framed image off the shelf. You jump up, following him to try and save yourself the embarrassment of whatever he was looking at but it was too late. He grins, turning his head to look down at you. “Oh wow, now don’t tell me this is you?” He holds the photo up beside your head, glancing theatrically between the two to compare and you bat him away.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re nosy?”

“Oh yeah, all the time. That, that is adorable though.” He’s immediately distracted by another photo, setting the one in his hand down to pick it up. “And who’s this?” He lifts the picture of your mother holding you as a baby.

“My mother.”

“Total fox. As expected.”

“Okay, no more for you.” You hide your amusement well, reaching out for the photo and grabbing it. He puts up little fight, letting you snatch the frame from his larger hand as he reaches for another, making a total mess of your embarrassing nostalgia display. This last picture is of you, around 5 years old— adorned in a pink princess dress and a plastic tiara, grinning at the camera.

“Aw.” He smirks, turning his body to face you. “Guess some things never change. Still a pretty princess.” You’re not sure if he’s mocking you now, because he’s tonguing at the cut on his lip which makes you gain a second heartbeat in your panties and you freeze up— which in itself is more embarrassing that this whole ordeal. He was a tease by nature he’ll admit, but this — this was fun. Seeing you get flustered was his new favourite thing.

You give him the exact reaction he’s after, failing to hide your smile as you lurch for the frame. He hides it behind his back and you stumble into him, stabilising yourself with both hands on his chest. He’s all… warm, and firm.

There’s a silence, but things are never quiet for too long with JJ. Thankfully.

“Damn, if you wanted to touch me up you could’a just asked. Pro’lly would’a said yes.” The smirk is yet to fade, infact you think it’s permanently stamped onto his mouth and your eyes widen just a smidge— scrambling for a witty comeback that didn’t make you look like a perverse idiot.

“I dunno, after you made fun of my baby pictures? Think I owe you two black eyes.” You tilt your head sweetly, proud of the response and his eyes flicker over your expression, eyes softening just a tad. Or maybe you imagined it.

“‘Think that’s a little extreme. How ‘bout a kiss instead?” You freeze, because it’s then you realise how close the two of you are still. Hes practically got you caged against your vanity, can probably hear how fast he’s got your heart beating— maybe smell the pathetic dribble of arousal seeping into your underwear just from being this close to him. You can’t tell if he’s kidding, and it seems he even caught himself a little off guard, blinking a few times during your stunned silence.

But then you look at his mouth, because asking a question like that is totally giving you permission to do so, and he takes that as an answer and leans in.

You’re so hypnotised when his mouth starts moving against yours that you nearly jump out of your skin when his large hands bracket your waist, pulling your body more flush against his. JJ was a good kisser, which lead you to indeed that he was infact— a whore. Well, maybe a former whore. Whatever, in that moment it didn’t matter— nothing mattered, just JJ and his tongue that was sliding against yours as the kiss heated up.

It feels like hours that your tongues are looping round eachother, snapped out the moment by the hungry blondes hands sliding down, your waist in his grip becomes suddenly your ass cheeks through your shorts, squeezing and pulling you against him practically lifting your entire body. It’s then you realise you having a working voice box, because you let out the most pathetic mewl you’ve ever heard yourself make. Even more pathetic than the noises you made only a few nights ago from your own hand.

He groans back almost as like a response, and with that — finally, he manoeuvres you to start walking backwards towards the very bed you fell apart on at the thought of what you were currently doing, or about to do. Your lips detach when the backs of your knees hit the bed, falling to sit down at the edge of it with a few bounces. He stares down at you for a couple of seconds, disorientated and sore-mouthed like even he can’t believe what’s happening— before he jumps into action. Jittery and clumsily like he always is.

“Should probably uh— if we’re gonna get on the bed I don’t wanna— poke you with somethin’” He stuffs his hands into his pockets, unloading them. His phone, his keys, earphones, cigarettes, wallet, other random knickknacks that would otherwise make you raise an eyebrow if you weren’t already so dazed by him. He’s about to return to you, before his mouth forms an ‘o’ shape, as if he just remembered something — and he reaches into the back of his pants, pulling up the shirt that hung over his waistband to there retrieve his gun. He holds it up with a smile that said ‘How silly of me!’

You gape. “JJ, why do you have that?”

He shuffles some things around on your vanity, scrambling to make space for the piece. “Uh, had to bring it home today… lemme just… set that down there.” He places it next to your jewellery stand, the contrast in the items almost making you laugh in disbelief. “The old problem solver.” He mutters, giving it a fond pat before turning back to you, happy to carry on.

“What if my parents were to come home and see that?” You challenge with a pout, not too keen about him bringing a weapon into your house. He huffs out a smirk, leaning back down to where you’re sat, hands on your shoulders as he slowly lays you down.

“Think they’d be a little more concerned about the dirty pogue on top of their little girl, but y’know…” His words get lower and lazier as he draws in before locking his lips onto yours again, this time wasting no time with introducing his tongue.

You’re back in the zone, gun long forgotten within seconds— running your hands through his hair, over his strong arms, touching everywhere you’ve wanted to touch since you started working at the restaurant. Well, not everywhere.

He’s not holding back on being handsy either, body slotted between your legs after he lifts you further up the bed, grappling at your thighs, hips, and eventually tits. You can’t blame him, there’s desperation behind both of your actions — the fact you’d both wanted this for a while now slowly becoming clear. Your heart thumps hard at this realisation, suddenly less able to breathe and you pull back panting, breath trembling.

His eyes flicker over your face, watching your wet mouth as you ramble. “Wanted— mmph— wanted this for a while.”

He drags his lips over your cheek, pressing his hips against yours and you can feel him hardening. It does little to help you calm down. “Yeah, same… Is it… uh, is it weird I kinda didn’t want you to wash the shirt before givin’ it back to me?” He smiles, dropping another toothy peck to your mouth as his hands continue feeling you up.

Your eyes flutter closed once more when he softly grinds his bulge against your cunt, your knees tightening against his hips as you let out a silent moan, lips parted.

“H-had to. I slept in it.” You admit before you think, brain focused on other things. He laughs quietly against your jaw, smoothing his tongue over the now bitten skin.

“Aw, you did?” He creates some space between the two of you, his hand very slowly starting to trail down your body, past your stomach. “You got it so bad for me, huh?” He teases and you whine, openly and pathetically— spoiled and childish even. JJ didn’t seem the type to talk about his feelings easily, but teasing you for yours was outright mean.

“Shutup.” Comes with the whine, your breath catching pathetically as you feel the rumble of him slowly unzipping your shorts zipper at your crotch, lips detaching from your jaw for a second to look at what he’s doing, still chuckling.

“Thats rude.” He grins, quiet and lighthearted, elated when you start helping him pull your shorts down and kicking them carelessly off. If he wasn’t so desperate to get his hands on you, he would have taken more time to appreciate your cute little cotton panties with the bow on top. They were so you, exactly the sort he pictured you wearing, moreso pictured you soaking through the way you were now.

His hand slides over the length of your covered cunt, all but cupping you and pushing his fingers over the embarrassing amount of wetness on the fabric. “What else did you do in the shirt, hm? Talk me through it babe.”

He’s teasing you, not truly expecting much of an answer as he genuinely believed a sweet girl like you wouldn’t have the gall to do anything but sleep in his shirt. His lips trail down the centre column of your neck, and it bobs with a harsh swallow. Now, his interest is piqued.

“Can’t say!” You whimper, eyes screwed up, legs spreading wider as he gently thumbs at your clit through the fabric, just enough to stimulate you. You feel him remove his mouth from you, lifting his head into your direct eyeline with an amused raise of the brow.

“Well now sweetheart, you’re just gonna have to tell me.” His fingers tuck into the leg hole of your panties, like he wants to pull it aside but won’t. You realise he’s still watching you, waiting for an answer and that he’s not gonna go further until you speak. “Don’t be shy, tell Papa J what you—”

“Touched myself. I touched myself.” You release all in one breath. Now it’s his turn to ogle you, completely off guard. If he wasn’t hard as a rock before, he certainly was now. Probably leaking in his boxers too from how things felt down there. This was poor performance from him, he thought at the back of his mind. This fucked so early on? Shit, he knew he liked you but c’mon.

He peels your panties to the side and you squeak, the boy making no effort to touch you still— just letting the cool air of your room grace your glossy folds.

“And why would you do something like that, baby?” He noses at your cheek, trying to get you to open your eyes. You squeeze them harder before fluttering them open, so hot in the face and embarrassed when you find his gaze you think you might just die.

“Because I like you.” You whisper. It’s sweet, just like he thought you’d be when the time comes. He smiles, dimple deepening as his free hand cups your cheek.

“Because you like me.” He repeats in affirmation. It’s a little smug, he’ll admit — but having his dream girl beneath him had his ego on ten, what can he say. He slides two fingers through your wetness, dragging what he collected up your clit and circling it making you arch your back. “Gotta say, the feelings definitely mutual.”

He kisses you again, and this time it feels like something else. Like a confession, a proposal of some sort. It’s passionate, overwhelming in the best way, intimate — as his fingers start to move, stroking your clit and making your legs tremble in adrenaline.

As you writhe and moan beneath him, his lips swallowing as many as he can, unable to stay away— his other hand starts to slide up your work shirt. You wished you’d been wearing something sexier the first time the two of you got it on, but clearly it sort of did something for him.

If the speed at which he located and stimulated your clit wasn’t enough to convince you that the boy definitely had experience, it would be the way his hand slides around to your back, unhooking your bra singlehandedly. You can’t help but giggle through your whimpers and you’re not sure why, but he smiles too— murmuring “Party trick.” against your mouth. The smile is wiped from your face when his digit glides around your hole, as if lapping up all the wetness and then pushing in— all the way to the knuckle.

You moan and tense up a little, it’s been a while and your own fingers were definitely smaller than his. At your reaction. he pulls back only slightly— a look of concern poorly masked on his face.

“Are you… have you uh, been with a guy before? Or is this…”

“One guy, a while back. Not good at all.” You sigh and he nods patiently, lips twitching up when he starts to move his finger and your eyes flutter involuntarily. “Think I can work with that.”

He twists his wrist a little, working you with just one finger as he paws at your free’d tit, sucking on your tongue. You moan, the sound of your own wetness having its own presence in the room and he hums, pulling back to look down at the way you’re sucking his middle finger in.

“So pretty, you’ve been holdin’ out on me baby. Should be a crime to hide this cute little pussy, damn.” He whispers and you whine in preemptive embarrassment to the way you clench around him, making him chuckle again. “Oh yeah? She liked that, huh?”

“More, please—” You nearly choke on your own swallow as you lift your head, looking down at the way he’s got you spread out. Reaching downwards you gently tug at his wrist, not quite sure of the aim. “N—‘nother one.” You pant. Jeez, already totally fucked dumb and he hasn’t even made you cum. You were going to give JJ Maybank an even bigger head.

He doesn’t say anything, just sinks two fingers into your cunt and you make a noise he’s only heard in amateur porn videos from Twitter, dick usually nestled in his fist. He presses his lips together in a quiet ‘Mhm’ and your hands are back on him, desperate once more to consume him wholly.

Your nails rake through his hair as he finds his rhythm, tonguing at the cut on his lip with wide observant eyes that flicker between your face and your cunt. “Look at you go.” He responds to a moan— but JJ being JJ knows he can do better, which is why he stops thumbing at your nipple and pushes his hand into the bed instead, using the weight on his arm to start sliding down your body.

The first kiss against your stomach catches you off guard, and if you weren’t so dizzy from pleasure you might wanna think about it more. He repositions his hand, stroking your inner thigh as he pushes them wider apart and shushes you, now face to face with your glistening pussy. His fingers slow their movements for a moment.

“She’s real pretty.” His fingers slide out so he can make messy doing of spreading your folds with his fingers, licking his already wet lips.

“Thank you.” You mewl happily, eyes watery as they gaze down at him like he hung the moon and stars for you.

“You’re so sweet.” He smiles genuinely and fairly innocently up at you as he strokes your thigh affectionately— before of course counteracting that by shooting out a thick bubbling glob of spit directly onto your clit, making your jaw drop. Lifting your thighs, he murmurs. “So sweet you get me hard. S’kinda unfair… at work.” Before he chases the spit with the flat of his tongue, bringing the muscle up to then wrap his lips around your clit and suck.

No noise can leave you for a few seconds, brows furrowed and jaw dropped in a silent moan until he forces the noise out of you by stuffing his fingers back inside your weeping hole.

“Oh— oh, JJ!” Your toes curl and in record time you feel your first orgasm approaching. It’s different from the ones you give yourself, it’s a ball of fire in your stomach and heat licking up your spine, eyes even watering at the exertion.

“Yeah say my name, c’mon.” He coaches you, moving his tongue faster like he’s competing with himself to make you cum.

“JJ, mmpph— feels— it feels—” You nearly sob.

“How’s it feel?”

“M’gonna—”

“Cum, babydoll. I got you.”

White noise. Like, almost the sounds of waves crashing. It doesn’t really feel like you’re a person anymore — but one thing is for certain. You have never cum like that in your life. You must of been on autopilot, moaning and whining pathetically, slurring out nonsense and maybe a twisted version of his name— but when you come back to Earth you’re near hyperventilating.

You slap at his shoulders with shaky hands because his lips are still latched onto your pulsing nub, fingers still squelching and working the release out of you. “Ok—okay, Jayj— please!” You let out a pathetic little cry and he eases up, pushing himself off you with a satisfied hum and grinning cheekily, letting you push out his fingers. You suck in shaky breaths, letting him soak in the moment by bringing his fingers to his mouth and cleaning them off.

“Better than anything I make, can tell you that.” He jokes. “Taste that shit, s’fuckin’ delicious.” He eases his fingers into your mouth, letting you suck off the remains with a humiliated mewl before removing them, leaning over you to kiss you. God, it’s embarrassing how much you soaked his face. Really, how it ended up on his forehead— you wasn’t sure. You were too focused on your own taste he was forcing into your mouth with his tongue, purposeful and cocky, making sure to roll his own wet muscle over your tastebuds so that you never forget who made you cum that hard.

It’s then, and only then he realises you’re freaking a little and lets you off for a break, cupping your cheek as he pulls back. “Are you good?” He chuckles and you inhale deeply, still trembling. You’re not sure what he does, because everything’s all hazy but he manhandles you a little until he’s cradling you in strong biceps, brow creased. “Did I go too hard? I may— may have gotten a lil’ carried away there. My apologies.” He holds up a hand that wasn’t cradling you.

“Was just— haven’t — it’s never felt like that before. Never felt that good.” You admit, which brings back his dimple and that sickeningly soft look in his eyes.

“What can I say, you deserve the best there is when it comes to receiving orgasms, and I,” He presses his mouth back on yours, kissing you between each word. “Am the best, there, is, at, giving them.” On the last kiss you lean into it, holding him there, as you’re ambushed by an unexpected feeling.

Some kind of surge in your stomach, like butterflies but bigger, your heart pounding. If you weren’t so dazed you’d be worried the L word was coming to doom you early. The feeling made you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him back ontop of you, jean clad bulge pressed back against your sensitive heat as you moan, high pitched and happy against him.

He pulls back to make some kind of joke, maybe a comment about your recovery time but you beat him to the chase, staring up into his dilated pupils with love hearts occupying your own. “Wanna make you feel good, Jayj.”

“You—how—”

You suckle on your bottom lip, hand bravely travelling down to cup the bulge that was calling to attention in his jeans. His breath catches in his throat, lips parting to let out a quiet and surprised groan.

“I’ve never—” Your face is hot again. “Never given a blow job before but—”

“Next time. Yeah? If you’ll let me I kinda just… wanna fuck you.” He smirks and hides it in your jawline, almost too shy in the moment to look you in the eye. Your brows furrow with a silent whimper at his words.

“Next time?” You mewl happily like you’re floating on air. At this he pulls back, a hopeful grin.

“If you’ll have me, that is. Figured I should take you out on a real date.”

You don’t have time to respond, he doesn’t let you— perhaps out of nerves. Instead, he’s working your panties that had been pushed to the side down your legs, followed by pulling your tshirt over your head. “Peekaboo, there she is.” He smiles quietly and you giggle, thinking back to the time at the locker where he pulled his shirt over your head. You toss your loose bra away from the bed, now laying bare beneath him.

He sits back on his knees, hands instinctually lifting to his head like he wanted to fix his hat, a habit you noticed of his that would occur when he’s overwhelmed or in awe. He settles on running his hands through the blonde tresses instead, big goofy smile on his face.

“Holy shit. I mean like — holy shit.” He breathes and you turn your head shyly, then reaching out to tug at his shirt.

“You too.” You gesture to his shirt and he offs it within a second, not wanting to look away from your naked body from a minute. Once his hands are free again, he’s sliding them up to your chest, greedily massaging your tits in both hands.

“Fuck, you are so fine. I mean like I think I nearly came in my pants.” He admits quietly and you tug at his belt, having to remind him of what you were actually doing.

“C’mon, Jayj— want you to fuck me!” You whine, all doe eyes and pouts, not even registering how pathetic and desperate the sentiment was — only making his cock throb harder. He buckles slightly, like it physically pains him and he nods quickly, fumbling with his belt until he could pull his jeans down just enough to release himself.

It’s long, pink and pretty like you expected — pearly precum gathering at his tip. He grasps it infront of you, eyes flickering between yours and his dick, suddenly looking hesitant. “So uh, this is what m’ working with.” He announces awkwardly, overthinking everything — but it doesn’t matter because you’re wrapping a delicate hand round it, guiding him to your entrance.

“Woah there missy, okay uh— hold your horses. This job don’t pay either of us enough for you to get knocked up.” He side rolls off the bed hobbling over to the dresser for his wallet, retrieving a condom and returning. You would have laughed, but you get all embarrassed and teary eyed about how overly eager you’d been.

“Sorry. I wasn’t thinkin’.” You pout and his eyes flutter up to yours, kneeling between your legs.

“Hey? You’re good.” He tears the packet open with his teeth and you clench around nothing. “You’re good.” He repeats, stroking your thigh as he eases the rubber onto his cock. “Still up for it, babe?”

You bite your lip with a sniffly giggle, nodding and he grins himself, laying on top of you to press a sloppy kiss to your mouth. He pulls away, and he lines himself up before slowly easing himself in.

Your legs around his waist hug him tighter and your toes curl at the stretch, wincing. “You got it.” He encourages, voice breathier like it teetered on a moan which only made you flutter around him.

“S’big, JJ.” You whimper and he huffs against your neck.

“I— thanks.”

Once he’s in, he’s in — and you can see how his fingers and tongue were only just the appetiser. He fucks like it’s the last time, like his life depends on it— rolling his hips, his hands somehow in ten places at once, his tongue — oh his tongue, it’s in your mouth, then down your neck, then looping around your nipple making you clench and whine and cry.

He starts to speed up, unable to control himself as his hands slide under your lower back to hold you, thumbing at your waist. “Shit, shit, shit.” He grits his teeth, having to contain himself there and then from cumming when he sees the way your tits bounce beneath him. “Takin’ that shit so good, huh? Jesus baby.” He wrinkles his nose in exertion, panting.

“S’just so good, JJ— mmph!”

“Yeah? Y’gonna think of this everytime I see you, shit, everytime I see you in the kitchen? Givin’ me those big sexy fuck me eyes everytime I hand you a plate? Shit baby, pretty little waitress, huh. N’ you’re all mine now. So freakin’ lucky.” Hes rambling, nonsensical— already pussy drunk.

You’re in ecstasy. Not only from how he felt, but from how you were making him feel. It occurred to you that no one seems to talk about the validation you receive from finally getting to fuck your crush, watching them come apart over you. You wanted more, wanted to impress him.

In a trance, you push at his stomach, shuffling upwards so he reluctantly pulls out, concern on his clammy face. You fumble, rolling onto your front, sticking your ass in the air, looking over your shoulder.

“Please.” You plead, and you’re not sure what for— but it works, the blonde puffing out his cheeks with a dramatic exhale, lining himself behind you and pushing in. “Gonna be the death of me, babydoll.”

You may have overestimated your abilities, crying pathetically when he bottoms out, his cock feeling ten times it’s size from this angle.

“Arch that back baby, there you go, just like that.” He whispers, pressing down on your lower back making you sob. You fuck back against him, pressing your cheek to your pillow, fingers curling into it for security. “Good girl, that’s right.” He drops a hand beneath you, finding your clit once more and as a surprise ambush, you cum— suddenly and embarrassingly, gushing around his cock leaving a ring of cream at his base.

He doesn’t stop this time, giving you a moment to catch your breath as you whine and mewl like a distressed kitten. No, if anything — he goes harder, his own release on the precipice. The bed is creaking now, wooden headboard smacking the wall as he leans his weight on the back of your arms, pelvis slapping against your ass. Little squeaks are punched out of you with each thrust, and when you think he’s reached a crescendo— he slows.

“Fuck, fuck turn around baby. Need to see that pretty face to cum, c’mon.” He pants in one breath, fighting you back onto your back and sliding back in with ease this time, pushing one knee up to your chest and rolling his hips, eyes squeezed shut.

He tries to keep them open, eyes everywhere— your tits, your big wet eyes, your lips. Like he can’t help himself, he sloppily cups your cheek, a thumb brushing your bottom lip. Wanting to help him along in your post orgasm brain-fog, your tongue peeks out, trying to catch the finger as he bounces you on his cock. Once you’ve got it, you wrap your lips around it, sucking with devotion and love hearts in your eyes.

“Oh my— god” He whimpers, finally dropping his cheek to your chest as he ruts into you, spilling his seed. You moan at the feeling, scratching at his back and fluttering around him. The butterflies return.

After ten minutes, you’re laying on his thick bicep— his blunt fingernails scratching your scalp at the bottom of your skull. The dryer beeps distantly, signifying that it’s completed its cycle.

Maybank is staring at you, like he’s trying to memorise your face, like it’s the last time he’ll ever see you. An amused smile breaks out onto your face, trying to hide it in his arm as you press a kiss there. At this, a grin spreads on his own face, questioning.

“You know… I do actually have an electric toothbrush.”

“I freaking knew it.”

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || 141 x reader

[ Chapter 1 ] || [ Chapter 3 ]

Pairing: Soap x Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1K~ cw: a bit of dirty talking/innuendos Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you?

Chapter 2: Johnny

“Oh, hello…” You remarked to yourself as your eyes locked into a stunning pair of blue eyes on your screen, stopping your mindless right-swipping. “...Johnny.”

“You’re 29… A soldier… Scottish… Are you friends with Kyle?” You mused playfully. “Let me guess, you’re a gym bro, aren’t you?” You asked sarcastically as you tapped your finger on the right side, skipping through his pictures. The first one immediately after was him lifting while wearing a weightlifting belt. “Yup… Mandatory gym pic.”

Chuckling to yourself, you snap a screenshot of his profile to the girls as well, sending it quick.

leah: @/mia Whatever good energy you sent its working. second hot guy in the last 5 minutes! mia: i lit a CANDLE for this!!!!! leah: there weren’t any handsome guys like this when i was on tinder?! 😫 UNFAIR. 🙄 you: blow it out then cause this is the 3rd actually. leah: 3rd??? Where’s number 2??? you: didn’t think to snap a screenshot. hasn’t matched me back yet. mia: has he posted a shirtless pic? you: kyle did and this one idk but probably. need to check. leah: Don’t forget to send it over.🥴

Shaking your head and laughing in amusement, you went back to Tinder, checking on ‘Johnny’. The mandatory gym pic was there… a couple of them in fact! And then the mandatory shirtless selfie. Or rather… The mandatory shirtless SELFIES. Plural.

Three of them… The first one was him just straight up wearing just a towel… And the next was him in a kilt… And the next was him with a button-up very much so unbuttoned. 

“Oh, my, Johnny-John-John… You sure know how to woo a bird…” You joked to yourself.

You dragged your finger down to check his bio and immediately frowned. “Of course…” You trailed off with a disappointed frown as you snuck another spring roll into your mouth.

He might be stupidly attractive, but his personality… Gosh, he doesn’t know how to sell himself. Boring, boring, boring. “I work out and like video games!” You quipped mockingly and scoffed a bit.

“Artist.” You remarked when you reached the last of his profile’s tags, spotting that word in the hobby section. “An artist? You?” You asked your phone screen as if Johnny would come alive in it and answer you. 

You’d admit, him calling himself an artist was intriguing enough, but normally that wouldn’t be enough to make you Swipe Right on him… But you’re not under normal circumstances. You promised your friends you’d Swipe Right on everyone so…

Your phone almost dropped out of your hand as soon as the ‘It’s a Match’ screen showed. “Of course… He’s probably swiping right on everyone as well…” Rolling your eyes, you go to click off the screen but accidentally enter DMs.

Johnny: ye have any scottish in you? you: not that i know of. Johnny: would ye like to? 🫦 Johnny: wait. wdym not that ye know of??? Johnny: i was trying to be filthy and now got me curious bonnie

“Fuckin’ hell…” You said as you set down your phone and covered your face before breaking into a fit of giggles.

The fact you had accidentally ruined his pick-up line and succeeded in stumping him got you very, very amused. Okay, maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as boring as you thought.

you: story for another time. you: i walked right into that one tho. good job. Johnny: no ye cant do that Johnny: gotta tell me all about it now you: i mean werent scottish people everywhere in the uk at one point? you: i might be 1/370232103484320th scottish. Johnny: would ye like some MORE scottish in ye then? 🫦 you: solid attempt again. you: if you keep trying you might just get there. Johnny: i intend to dont worry you: soooo… Johnny: so? you: were you wearing underwear under the kilt? Johnny: no Johnny: why want a peek? 😏 you: i’m good you: so ur an artist? Johnny: i am Johnny: ur fast at typing fuck you: what kind? you: keep up then! Johnny: drawing Johnny: im trying 🥴 you: can i see some? Johnny: hanging with my mates difficult to text fast 😤 Johnny: idk if ull be in the mood to see anything after im done with ye you: why? 🤨 Johnny: might be too tired and need to be cuddled to sleep 😏 you: oh fuck off. Johnny: u just cursed me out Johnny: i think m in love 😫 Johnny: gonna tell my mates i just met my spouse 🥴🥴 you: don’t give them any ideas. you: haven’t even agreed to meet up with you. you: haven’t been invited in the first place. Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏

Your eyes widened at his enthusiasm and persistence. Okay, he was definitely not boring… It was actually kind of endearing and funny!

you: jc r u copypasting that? Johnny: yes Johnny: are ye going to or not you: can i get back to you on that? Johnny: ill wait for ye you: sure you do that johnny Johnny: ow the sarcasm burns

Concealing a chuckle, you clicked off the DMs page for the second time tonight… but, this time, you closed the app and focused on eating dinner.

Sure, this whole dating app thing was stupid, but at least you were enjoying yourself. 

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taglist: @daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthoney , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe

[smileysuh]

knight of roses

🌙 starring. Jeong Jaehyun x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. The Knight of Roses looks so beautiful as he says his piece, and the idea that he’s already committed to you is one that makes your heart race in your chest. He’s so beautiful- and you’ve tried to deny it for too long. You hate being the girl who falls for the same man that everyone else has their eye on, and Jaehyun has no lack of suitors, especially in court. However, you suppose there’s always legitimacy in the looks of a man who has captured the hearts of many.

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, virgin!reader, first time, dirty talk, praise, power imbalance, Jaehyun unties her stupidly royal corset, armor removal, hand job, pussy eating, fingering, stretching out, multiple reader orgasms, etc… I pet names: (hers) princess.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 9.1k 

🍭 aus. Fantasy au, fairy au, royal au, knight!Jaehyun, princess!y/n, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. So this is a fae au, but that’s more the kingdom fantasy side than any overt faerie wings or powers- Jaehyun’s hair is naturally pink, and Yuta has white hair, so that’s going to be the extent of the faerie aesthetic in this- I just wanted to do something royal, and I wanted a unique kingdom set up :) 

Prologue:

Tourneys of this caliber are unusual. The northern reaches that expand through the Winter kingdom, as well as the Fall lands in the West, are known for their bad weather, not for their celebrations. While the Spring Royals host events, it’s with little regularity. No, this kind of lengthy drinking and fighting fest is a uniquely Summer type of pride and joy. 

It’s the Summer Kingdom’s Prince John’s birthday, and only a princely celebration could merit the expense of this sort of event. 

All the royals, from all four reaches, are here, as well as a host of knights from all sorts of families. Everyone is intent on proving themselves, but none more so than the Princes Yuta from the North, and Doyoung from the West. 

The Winter Prince has a reputation for upholding the traits of his house. He’s fierce, white-haired, and hardened from the cold temperatures and unforgiving terrain he was made in.

The Fall Prince carries some of those more ‘Northern’ aspects, however, where Yuta is more brazen, Doyoung is regal in every sense of the word. His motions are calculated, his blade as sharp as his eyes.

They’re both formidable fighters as the tourney day drags on, however, another favourite has emerged in the past two days that has shocked everyone. ‘The Knight of Roses’ they call him, in reference to the emblem on his chest plate, a man from a lesser house in the Eastern lands.

With pretty pink locks, this Jeong Jaehyun has stolen the hearts of many, however, you’re not so easily swayed, and your brother, John, knows it.

“Who will you be giving your favour to?” Johnny asks, leaning on his watching throne to get closer to you in the royal box where your family sits to watch the tourney.

“I’m not sure yet,” you admit, although, your gaze shifts to Prince Yuta as he pulls on his black dragon helm. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Johnny grins. “Yuta is a savage. You don’t want him to get any ideas.”

“Ideas?” you counter with a smirk.

“First it’s your favour he asks for, then it’s your hand,” Johnny points out.

“I’m too young to marry,” you insist. “Maybe I’ll never take a husband.”

Johnny sighs. It’s a well-known fact within your close family that you don’t want to adhere to political protocols. You have a wildness in your heart, and your mother has always attributed it to a touch of winter that had coldened her family line many years ago. 

“But if you must, it can’t be Yuta,” Johnny says firmly. “The North might be exciting now, but summer and winter don’t mix well. You might think of yourself as a savage, with your sword-wielding, and your dislike for ‘things befit of a princess,’ but you’re still too sweet for a man like him, believe me on that.”

Your lips pull tight, and you refuse to respond, focusing your attention on the tourney as the announcer begins to read out the names of competitors.

Yuta is one of the first, as is his right as a royal, and he approaches the elevated stand you’re sitting on. “I’m hoping for a favor, from the princess,” he says loudly, holding out his joust.

You stand, holding a small garland of wildflowers picked from the King’s wood. “Good luck, Prince Yuta,” you call, leaning over the rail to toss your favor onto his joust.

Yuta nods respectfully, and you’re taken by his striking eyes.

You go back to sit with your brother and he lets out an annoyed sound, but doesn’t pester you further.

Soon, the final tournament, the last of three days, is beginning.

You’re glued to your seat for all of it, eyes fixed on the commotion as rider after rider is bested. The royals hold their own, but once again, the Knight of Roses shows off his skills with a joust, defeating Prince Doyoung in the semi-finals.

You feel, as Yuta and Jaehyun size each other up, that the victor should be obvious, you’d given him your favour after all- however, the day ends with your bet not paying off.

The Knight of Roses finishes on top, and as you and your brother leave to head to the final departing feast, Johnny pulls you close. “That Jaehyun guy is no joke,” he muses. “I want him in my court.”

One:

“In light of our mother and father going to The Bright Lands,” your brother sighs as he’s fitted into his coronation robe, “I think it’s best you finally get a proper bodyguard.”

“Jungwoo is doing the job just fine,” you muse, fingers clicking on your glass of wine while numerous maids fuss over the future king. 

“Jungwoo is my guard,” Johnny corrects. “And now that I’m about to be correnated, I want him back. He was a loan.”

“A loan,” you laugh. 

“I knew you wouldn’t agree to a new guard, but in an hour, I’ll be your king, so you’re going to make this easy on me, okay?”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t protest. “And who are you planning on assigning to baby sit me?”

“The Knight of Roses.”

Your heart skips a beat.

It’s been five years since Johnny recruited Jaehyun to come to your palace and train. Five years of you seeing the pink-haired man work at becoming an even better swordsman. Part of you had assumed that Jaehyun would step into the role of Johnny’s protector, not your own.

“I don’t need him,” you say.

“Yes, you do,” Johnny sighs. “Trust me, I think you’ll like his style of protection.”

With one last flair of his furred robe, Johnny turns to the door, and it’s clear the conversation is over.

The two of you exit his royal chambers, and you’re immediately flanked by guards. Jaehyun falls into step right behind you, and you do your best to ignore him as you make your way to the grand hall.

The Knight of Roses sticks to your side the entire ceremony, and it’s hard to focus on your brother with this pretty, pink-haired man practically breathing down your neck.

You’re ready for some alone time as the coronation closes. Tonight marks the eve of a three-day celebration to solidify the start of your brother’s reign, and you know you’ll have many duties in the coming seventy-two hours. You can skip the feast, especially while Johnny is swarmed in the great hall at the dining table.

As you slip away, you’re cognisant of the spring shadow following you. He’s silent, and you appreciate that as you make your way to your room. Once in the safety of your bed chamber, Jaehyun waits outside respectfully.

Two handmaidens join you, and they’re a little shocked at your request to be helped with putting on the armor your father had gifted to you three years ago. He’d known at that time that there was no way of squashing your wild heart, so he’d made sure you’d have the proper gear to protect yourself if you decided to live dangerously.

You exit your room fully adorned in royal armor. It’s similar to your elder brother’s, all golden, and stamped with the Summer house’s royal sunshine mark.

Jaehyun continues to say nothing, continues to shadow you as you make your way down to the courtyard and into the King’s wood. 

It wouldn’t be ‘becoming’ for you to practice swordsmanship where others could see you, so your father had made a training section of sorts for you a short way into the treeline, in a clearing where you’ve since spent many hours.

You expect Jaehyun to continue his silent streak as you approach a practice dummy, expect him to sit back and watch you the way Jungwoo always has- but as you ready your first blow, Jaehyun speaks his first words. “Do you come train here often, Princess?”

You pause, turning to look at your spring shadow. “Excuse me?”

“This practice site, is it yours?”

“Yes,” you respond, striking the practice dummy, “it’s mine.” You hear something of a scoff- or maybe a smile, and you turn to find the pink-haired man grinning. “What?”

“King John said you’re an unusual girl, but I never expected this.”

“Sorry to ruin your expectations,” you sigh, lining yourself up to take another hit at your training dummy.

“Has anyone ever given you any formal training, Princess?” Jaehyun asks next, stepping toward you.

“Johnny has tried to teach me a few times,” you confess.

“Are you open to pointers, Princess?” 

You let out a deep sigh. “My last guard would simply watch.”

Jaehyun nods, looking down at the ground. It’s clear he’s going to drop this, that he’s taken your response as a rejection. You’re his Princess, he won’t question you, and you kind of like it. But, at the same time, as you begin to hack at the dummy, you wonder what Jaehyun might be able to provide for you that Jungwoo couldn’t, or maybe wouldn’t. 

The Knight Of Roses has proven himself, and his swordsmanship, many times over. There are worse people you could accept constructive criticism from.

“Fine,” you sigh. “What am I doing wrong?”

Two:

You’re elated from your impromptu training session with Jaehyun. After allowing him to teach you a few tips, you’d sparred for an hour or so before he’d insisted it would be a good idea to go back to the banquet. So here you are, all tightened in your gown and corset, your heart racing every time you think of how much you’ve just learned from your new protector.

Your brother is seated next to you, and as the dinner commotion quiets down a little, he leans closer to you. “How are you feeling?”

“Good.”

Johnny scoffs at your one-word response, his eyes shifting to the guard behind you, to the great hall full of people there to celebrate his coronation. “How do you feel about the familiar faces here tonight?”

You sigh, knowing who he means. Prince Doyoung and Prince Yuta are seated at their royal tables, one poised, the other relaxed and holding a cup of wine between his fingers.

“We just had a royal wedding,” you muse, looking at Johnny’s new wife as she sits on his left. 

“And as much as I like the Spring King, I don’t need Taeyond as a brother-in-law twice over,” Johnny agrees. “I remember a few years ago, you had an eye on Prince Yuta.” 

“That was a few years ago.”

Johnny nods, and he looks contemplative for a few seconds. “I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do. You’re a summer child, but there’s always been an untamable side to you.”

“I appreciate that.”

“However,” Johnny lifts his fingers to his lips, leaning his elbow on his large chair. “I would like for you to dance with a few people tonight.”

“And what would be the point in that?” you counter.

Johnny shrugs. “Fun? Intrinsic value? Because your older brother, and King, wants to see you smile?”

“I doubt many of these men could make me smile.” 

Jaehyun is close behind you, and he listens to this exchange, a smug grin working it’s way onto his face. As familiar as he is with Johnny, it’s clear your brother doesn’t know very much about you. If he wishes to see you smile, he just has to see you with a sword in your hand.

The Knight of Roses has always thought you were beautiful, but seeing you dressed in full royal armor, wielding a blade- he’d realized that was your element. You’re happiest while battling, unladylike sweat dripping from your brow, eyes fixed on your task, the smell of deep concentration practically wafting off of you. 

Jaehyun would be lying if he said he wasn’t affected by the small training session that had just taken place. He wasn’t sure how to gauge what your relationship as princess and guard would be like, but now- if tonight was any suggestion of what’s to come- he thinks this might suit him just perfectly.

The feast is cleared away by servants, and large tables are pushed to the sides of the great hall to make way for dancing. 

Jaehyun shifts on his feet as he watches, holding his breath at what’s to come.

He’s not surprised when Prince Yuta approaches the royal table. 

“King John, Princess,” he nods, his gaze lingering on you, “I was wondering if I might have this dance.”

For something of a winter savage, Prince Yuta can be surprisingly well-mannered when he wants to be, and it’s no shock when you stand to your feet, allowing the man from the North to pull you to the dance floor.

Each kingdom has its own color scheme. While Fall is depicted with bronze and blue, Jaehyun’s own kingdom sports rose gold and green. Yuta however, is silver and black, and it is starkly contrasted by your gold and white dress. The two of you stick out like a sore thumb on the great hall floor, and there are many eyes that watch you humour the prince from the North with a dance.

Jaehyun has his opinions about this potential union, but he’ll keep them to himself.

Three:

It’s the second day of Johnny’s coronation celebration. The Summer equinox is approaching tomorrow, and the days are long. The sun is hot, and it makes you sweat in your suit of armor as you and Jaehyun train by the lake in the King’s Wood.

There had been a tourney today, and you’d slipped away from the crowds to find a spare hour or two before the nightly banquet. You’re aware that you’ve been sparring for some time already, and the summer heat is making you exhausted faster than you’d anticipated.

With a sigh, you let your sword fall to your side, and your guard immediately mirrors the movement. “I think I’m done for the day,” you muse.

“As you wish, Princess,” Jaehyun nods. 

You pull off one of your armored gloves as you move closer to the rocky shore of the lake. “Come sit with me.” 

Jaehyun nods again, following you.

He’s quick to unclip his rose gold and green embroidered cape, setting it along the rocks for you to sit on. You and Jaehyun have found a way to communicate with motions more so than words, and you nod a thank you to him as you get seated. 

You release a sigh as you continue to take off parts of your armor, relieved by the coolness that washes over your skin after being cooped up for an hour.

“I have something to ask you,” you tell him.

“Whatever you need, Princess.”

He’s still standing, and you sigh. “Sit.” Jaehyun does as he’s told. “I’m sure you noticed me dancing with Prince Yuta last night.”

“I think it’s safe to say everyone noticed,” Jaehyun nods.

“I know what is expected of me as a princess, and I guess I’m wondering what your feelings are on love and marriage?”

Jaehyun looks out at the lake, and he’s quiet for a moment while you assess him. 

“I don’t have the same pressures that you do when it comes to marriage,” Jaehyun admits. “I’m your guard, my only duty- my only commitment, is protecting you, and even though it’s only been two days, I think I can be content with that.”

The Knight of Roses looks so beautiful as he says his piece, and the idea that he’s already committed to you is one that makes your heart race in your chest. He’s so beautiful- and you’ve tried to deny it for too long. You hate being the girl who falls for the same man that everyone else has their eye on, and Jaehyun has no lack of suitors, especially in court. However, you suppose there’s always legitimacy in the looks of a man who has captured the hearts of many.

“Thank you for saying that,” you nod finally. 

“How about you, Princess? If I might ask… what are you thinking about your future?”

“My brother says he won’t pressure me, so for now, I think I’ll just lean on that,” you admit, letting out a sigh. “For now, I want to be free.”

You stand up abruptly, and Jaehyun is quick to his feet as well, looking at you with a question in his eyes.

“Help me take my armour off,” you tell him. “I’m going for a swim.”

“Excuse me, Princess?” Jaehyun freezes, and you can see a hint of pink blossoming on his skin.

“I’m going for a swim,” you repeat. “I want to be one with the water. It’s good for your muscles after training.”

“But- you have nothing to wear-”

“So I’ll wear nothing,” you say simply. “We’re in my brother’s King’s Wood, no one will come here, only royals can, and every royal has been drinking since this morning. We’re alone, and I wish to be free.” 

Jaehyun lets out a breath. “Respectfully, Princess, I don’t think this is a good idea.” Regardless of his words, Jaehyun begins to help you take off your armor.

You’re wearing a white shirt and pants beneath your metal plating, and Jaehyun’s gentle as he helps undress you. When it comes down to the final layers, Jaehyun bows his head and turns around, giving you privacy to get naked on the banks of the lake.

You find it comical how respectful he is, and you kind of love it as you strip completely and step into the water. The summer heat has made the temperature seasonably warm, so it feels lovely on your skin as you wade in.

Once shoulder deep, you begin to swim, and when you turn back to the shore, you find Jaehyun watching you.

He’s standing there, guardian you from afar.

You know there’s no way he would join you, so you don’t bother to ask. Instead, you just enjoy the water, allowing your muscles to relax, your body decompressing. 

Once you’ve had your fill, you begin to swim back to shore- and that’s when you notice motion in the treeline.

Jaehyun is quick to turn around, and you watch as Prince Yuta stalks onto the beach, taking one look at your guard, and then at you in the water. 

“What is this?” Yuta asks loudly.

“The Princess wanted to go for a swim,” Jaehyun responds calmly.

You can see Yuta’s gaze shift to your pile of clothes, and even from a distance, you note the change in his expression.

“And you let her go for a swim?” The Prince from the North growls. 

“I don’t let my Princess do anything, that’s not my job,” Jaehyun retorts.

“Your job is to protect her. Her body, her virtue as a princess- Do you have any idea what future suitors might think if they were to find out about this?!” Yuta is yelling now, and it sets your teeth on edge.

This is one of the first times you’ve seen his brash, hot-headed winter features in a situation outside of a tourney, and you’re beginning to see what your brother has always meant when he said Yuta wouldn’t be good for you.

“If my future suitors are so pigheaded that they judge a swim in the lake in my brother’s King’s Wood, then they aren’t good suitors to begin with,” you yell back. “Maybe I never want to get married! And I won’t marry any man just because he’s royal or it’s expected!”

Yuta stares at you in shock, lips parting then closing again- it’s clear he’s at a loss for words. Finally, with a scoff, he turns and leaves, a flurry of black and silver as he gets back on his horse, disappearing into the trees.

Jaehyun’s shoulders relax when the Prince departs, and he turns to look at you in the water. He doesn’t say anything, but you get the feeling that he’d wished you’d stayed out of the altercation.

“Are you almost done in there, Princess?” he calls.

“Uh huh.”

“I’ll grab a blanket from my horse,” Jaehyun announces, swiftly turning. 

He comes back with the blanket, and you watch Jaehyun close his eyes as he holds it outstretched for you. You wade back to the bank, cognizant of your nakedness as you allow yourself to approach your guard.

You take the blanket from him, wrapping it around your body to dry yourself. 

His eyes are still closed. Jaehyun is so pure- you’re little Knight of Roses. 

“How, may I ask, are you protecting me if you can’t see?” you ask.

“I’m listening to the forest,” Jaehyun responds softly. 

You admire his beautiful face, and you can’t help but lean forward, slowly closing the distance between the two of you, testing his ability to sense things-

Jaehyun takes a step back, brows furrowing. “What are you doing?”

“Just testing you,” you muse, leaning back and taking a breath. “I’ll put my clothes back on now, then you can help me with my armor before we go back.”

You hope Yuta hasn’t made a scene about all of this, but only time will tell. 

Four:

Jaehyun supposes he’s getting used to the sight of you dancing with other princes, and it’s easy for him to ignore the feeling bubbling inside of him, his mind wandering to what had just happened an hour ago at the lake.

“Jaehyun,” Johnny’s voice drags the knight away from his watch. The King makes a motion for Jaehyun to lean closer, so he does. “I heard something happened in the King’s Wood.”

“What did you hear, your highness?” Jaehyun asks.

“The Prince from the North came to talk to me, he gave me a warning about my favorite knight stealing the virtue of my sister.” 

Jaehyun’s skin runs cold. “You Highness- nothing happened, on my life, on my honor- your sister wanted to go for a swim, I kept my eyes shut-”

“I never doubted you,” Johnny interrupts, waving his hand. “Although, I do see the way you two look at each other… I don’t want to force my sister into anything, let alone a loveless marriage.”

Jaehyun considers his King’s words. It almost sounds like Johnny is giving Jaehyun permission to court you. 

“Anyways, I trust you.” Johnny leans back in his chair. “There’s a reason I chose you to be her protector, and what is a husband if not the ultimate protector?” 

Jaehyun wonders if he’s something of a knight in shining armour to you, roses and all.

“I appreciate what you’ve said, your Highness,” Jaehyun nods, and they both shift their gazes back to the dance floor where you’re wrapped up in Prince Doyoung.

It’s clear to Jaehyun that the smile on your face is fake. He’s seen your real smile, when you’re wielding a blade. You haven’t been faking it with Jaehyun, and he hasn’t been faking it with you.

“Jungwoo?” Johnny’s voice disrupts Jaehyun’s thoughts. “If you wouldn’t mind cutting in with my sister, it looks like Lord JYP is about to ask her to dance, and he’s much too old for her. I think she deserves a savior.”

Five:

You focus on your breath, trying to anticipate Jaehyun’s movements. He’s hard to read, even though you’ve done your best to recougnize his tells. The Knight of Roses might put his weight onto his left foot, only to lunge from the right.

He’s very adept at this, and you think you must have gotten better in these past few days at swordsmanship than you have since you picked up a sword.

You’re entirely focused on Jaehyun, so focused, that when he suddenly pauses, you don’t know what’s happening. That’s when you feel a presence behind you, and you swing to find the Fall Prince standing there.

“So this is where you run off to every day,” Doyoung muses, sizing you up. “You’re quite good with a sword, Princess.”

“Thank you,” you nod, a little shocked that he’s praising such a non lady like pass time. 

“Your brother, the King, told me where I might find you,” the Prince explains. “I’ve come with an offer.”

Your heart sinks in your chest, and your gaze shifts to Jaehyun. He’s looking at the ground, doing his best to be respectful of this royal exchange while still manning his post.

“I’ve noticed Prince Yuta’s interest in you,” Doyoung starts, “and I’m civilized enough, even as a man from the Eastern reaches, to know that no summer girl should be thrown to those Northern wolves. A union of the Fall or Spring kingdoms would be better suited for you, and since your brother just married into the Spring’s royal line, I feel as if I might be the next best option for you.”

You swallow thickly. There’s a “No” that bubbles along the back of your tongue, willing to be let out- but despite your distaste for political things, you’ve been trained well enough to know not to be so blunt with the Fall Prince.

“Thank you for your offer,” you say curtly. “I’ll have to consider your proposal. I can’t make any decisions without first discussing them with my King.”

Doyoung nods. “I understand. Thank you for your time, Princess.” He reaches for your hand next, and you allow him to bring your armoured fingers to his lips.

You watch as Doyoung leaves, and once he’s gone, you let out a deep breath.

“Are you alright, Princess?” Jaehyun asks.

“Just flustered,” you admit. “I’m impressed by his confidence to ask for my hand like that. I’ve always liked a man who knows what he wants... I might be a princess who swings her sword and swims naked and free- but I’m still just a girl who wants to be pursued, to be wanted- for more than just a political alliance.”

Six:

It’s been such a short time that Jaehyun’s been guarding you, but already, you’ve opened up to him numerous times. He’s beginning to understand you, and his feelings for you have been growing in a way he could have never imagined.

He can’t get the thought of what you’d said about being courted out of his head.

You want to be pursued, to be wanted- for more than your name, your title, your family- You want something real, and as much as Jaehyun’s never wanted to admit it to himself, he’s wanted the same.

He’s had hundreds of women throw themselves at him at this point- but they always liked him for his exterior, nothing more. 

The two of you are like different sides of the same coin. Wanted, admired- you for your rank, and him for his looks. It’s a difficult way to go through life, to feel like you’re never truly being seen.

But Jaehyun sees you, the real you, the you that you only show in your vulnerable moments. As fearsome as you think you are when you’re wielding your sword, there’s a side of you that is also open to being taught new things, and the ferocity in your approach to protecting yourself is more than admirable to the Knight of Roses.

He’s deep in thought, but his eyes never leave you as you dance around the great hall for the final night of the celebration, an endless line of suitors waiting for a turn at the Summer Princess.

There’s a flash of bronze, and Prince Doyoung catches Jaehyun’s gaze. The regal man from the West is cutting through the crowd, side stepping the line as is his right as a royal. 

There’s no doubt in Jaehyun’s mind as to what Doyoung wants to discuss as he cuts into your dance, and your guard sees the micromovements in your brow, the twitch of your lips as your smile momentarily falters.

Even so, you accept the prince’s offer of a dance, and Jaehyun broods while he watches.

Was it not just yesterday that King John asked Jungwoo to step in between you and a high born for a dance?

Jaehyun’s gaze shifts to the King, and something inside of him snaps. 

It’s the Knight of Roses’ duty to protect you, and maybe he’s let this farce of a party drag out too long. John won’t be mad at him for finally stepping in, of that, Jaehyun is certain as he steps down from his post.

People part to allow the armoured knight to pass, and Jaehyun can hear the blood rushing to his ears as he closes the distance between himself and you.

He stops just a foot short of you and the Prince, both of you looking at him with questioning eyes.

“May I cut in?” Jaehyun asks, and he’s pleased that his voice sounds more confident than he feels.

“I-” Doyoung opens his mouth, but you’re quick to cut him off, “You may.” 

There’s a clear anger in the Fall Prince’s expression as he reluctantly relinquishes you to your guard, and there’s a curious arch of your brow as Jaehyun takes you in his arms.

“What was that about?” you ask, once Doyoung has retreated.

“I thought you looked like you needed to be saved.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” you question with a grin. “Saving me?”

“It’s my duty, Princess.”

You narrow your eyes at him, and then you laugh. “Maybe you’re just jealous. Are you jealous, my good knight?”

Jaehyun tries to act innocent, to pretend the idea is stupid, but his scoff lacks conviction, and it’s clear you both know it.

“There’s something I have to tell you-” Jaehyun starts, but you cut him off in very much the same way you had the Prince just seconds ago. 

“Not here, not now, not with all of these eyes,” you whisper. “I thank you for saving me from this dance, I think the night ends here for me.”

Jaehyun nods, releasing you and stepping back respectfully.

You turn to head back up to your King, and Jaehyun follows three steps back.

“John,” you say, skipping the formalities for your older brother, “I’ve grown tired, and I’d like to go back to my room.”

“As you wish,” Johnny brushes it off, his gaze fixed on the great hall infront of him.

“Please tell Prince Doyoung that I reject his offer of marriage,” you continue, and this draws the attention of the King. “Would you let him know that I’d like to stay in the Summer Kingdom, at least for a little while longer, before I make any big decisions.” 

John looks between you and Jaehyun, who averts his eyes. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is.” You look so determined, so powerful as you stare down at your older brother, and in that moment, Jaehyun is proud of you. He’s proud of how much you’ve grown in the years since he first came to your Summer court- proud of the way you’re obviously following your own heart now that your brother is on the throne and allows it.

However, something tells Jaehyun that even if Johnny wasn’t so supportive of you, you’d still be making waves for yourself.

“I’ll talk with Doyoung,” John says finally. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” You curtsey for your king, and then you’re swiftly leaving the great hall with your knight closely behind you. 

The walk to your quarters feels dualistically long and short at the same time. Jaehyun’s mind is running a thousand miles per minute, and his heart is racing like it only does when he’s fighting.

He stops just outside your room, and you look back at him. “Well? Aren’t you coming inside?”

“I-”

“Come.” You leave no room for argument, and Jaehyun nods before stepping after you, closing the door.

“Well?” you ask, heading to your nightstand to pour yourself a chalice of water. “What did you want to say to me?”

“Hmm?”

“Just now, when you cut into my dance with the Fall Prince, it looked like you had something important to tell me.”

In the heat of the moment, seeing you with Doyoung had spurred something inside of Jaehyun, but now, in the privacy of your quarters, the Knight of Roses feels tongue tied. 

“Princess-” Jaehyun swallows thickly, and you set down your cup to move closer to him.

He can’t meet your gaze, so he looks at the floor, and he watches as you reach out to take his hand.

“Talk to me,” you plead, your voice near a whisper.

Jaehyun looks up at you.

Gods, you’re so beautiful. He likes you in your armour, but the dress you’d chosen for the final evening of your brother’s coronation celebration is truly ethereal, and Jaehyun thinks he may have never seen a prettier sight in all of his life.

Your gaze shifts to his lips, and Jaehyun’s breath catches. 

You move closer- like you had at the lake yesterday-

There’s a knock on your door, and Jaehyun practically jumps out of his armor. He tears his hand away from you, turning toward the intrusion as one of your ladies in waiting steps into the room.

“I’ve come to help the princess remove her gown for bed,” your maid announces.

“Yes, thank you,” you sigh. 

The maid looks to Jaehyun next. “Marcus Lee is also outside, to relieve you of your position for the night, Sir Jeong.” 

“Right.” Jaehyun nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Goodnight, Princess, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, good knight,” you bow your head.

It almost pains Jaehyun to walk away, but he has to. He steps outside of your bedroom, joining the knight who takes care of your watch while Jaehyun gets his rest.

Mark nods to Jaehyun, and Jaehyun returns the motion, not saying a word as he sets off toward his own room.

The Knight of Roses’ skin is practically buzzing, a fire raging inside of him. He thinks of all the things he’s wanted to say, all the things he’s wanted to do- 

You’d been so close to kissing him, and Jaehyun can feel it. 

When he gets back to his quarters, Jaehyun is quick to tear his armor off, the metal feeling constricting and like a furnace against his heated skin.

He falls into bed with a huff of exasperation, the thought of your lips never leaving his mind. 

Seven:

There had been a huge morning going away party, in which you and Johnny said goodbye to everyone who had come to celebrate his birthday. You’d been doing your duty, and you and Jaehyun have yet to discuss last night. When you’re finally alone and head back to your room, you turn to your Knight of Roses expectantly, waiting for him to break the ice.

“Would you like to train today?” he asks in the doorway to your bedroom. 

“Get in here,” you instruct. “We’re finishing our conversation from last night.”

With a nod, Jaehyun closes your door behind him, standing awkwardly a few meters away from you with his head bowed.

“Well?” you ask expectantly. 

The knight takes a deep breath. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” you urge. “What you’re feeling. Tell me that last night, if we hadn’t been interrupted, you would have kissed me the way I’ve been wanting to kiss you.”

Jaehyun’s eyes meet yours, and you see his expression break a little. “I talked with the King,” he starts, and you let out an exasperated sigh, not knowing what this has to do with anything. “He told me that he doesn’t want to push you into a loveless marriage, and then he noted that we look at each other the same way-”

“How do we look at each other?” you ask, wanting to hear him say it.

You watch him swallow thickly. “We look at each other like we care about each other. I know I care about you, more deeply than I ever thought I would- and in such a short time-”

“It has been a short time that you’ve been my guard,” you agree, “however, you’ve been in court for five years. It’s not like we’re strangers. I feel as if I already know you. I’m comfortable with you, and I’m not comfortable with many people, Jaehyun.”

Your knight nods, staying quiet.

“I care about you,” you confirm. “I care about you too.”

He looks up at you hopefully, and you have the sense that he’s waiting for you to elaborate.

“I’ve had these feelings, these longings-” you try to explain, clutching at your chest, where your heart is beating rapidly at the thought of how this might change your relationship. “But I have worries too.”

“Worries, Princess?” he inquires.

“It’s just… this power imbalance,” you motion between the two of you. “I’m your Princess, and you’re my Knight- I’d hate for you to grow to resent me as my protector if we were to ever take this leap.”

“I could never resent you,” he promises, words softening. “Princess- Never.”

“Never?” you repeat, stepping closer to him.

Jaehyun shakes your head. “I admire you, more than I’ve ever admired anyone. You’re a princess, but you don’t let your title define you. You are so singular- in the best of ways.”

“Keep telling me sweet nothings,” you whisper, reaching out to play with the belt that holds his sword.

“I’ve never met someone like you, man or woman,” Jaehyun tells you, his breath hot on your face as he looks down at you. “You’re so fierce, yet there’s a softness to you too- a softness I don’t think you want to show many people.”

You look up to meet his gaze. “You think so?”

“Yes, Princess.” Jaehyun nods solemnly. “I want you to feel safe enough to show me that soft side. Want for you to feel safe and know that I’ll always protect you, all of you.”

You cup his cheek, and Jaehyun leans into the touch, his eyes closing as he lets out a shaky breath.

“Kiss me,” you tell him.

“You’re a princess,” Jaehyun sighs. “Prince Yuta was right about not tarnishing your virtue-”

“Well, if you ask me to marry you, and I say yes, then my virtue is yours regardless of whether you take it now, or on our wedding night,” you point out.

Jaehyun opens his eyes, and you can see his resolve faltering. You can see him crumbling for you, and it’s a dazzling sight. This strong knight, breaking.

“I don’t have a ring,��� he whispers.

“I don’t care about a ring.”

“We’ve not known each other intimately for very long.”

“My mother met my father on their wedding night, for royals, it’s not uncommon to meet your betrothed until you’re at the alter.” 

“Are you sure you want this, Princess?”

“My Knight, my dear, sweet Knight,” you move closer, until your lips are just an inch away from his own, “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life.”

Jaehyun kisses you then, his arms wrapping tightly around you. He’s all hard metal, but his lips are soft. You’re sure he knows that this is your first time kissing a man, and he’s gentle as he wordlessly guides you through it. His tongue strokes your bottom lip and you hesitantly open up for him, allowing him deeper.

You mewl as he lifts you off the ground, carrying you toward your bed.

“You’re sure?” Jaehyun asks again, setting you down.

“Make love to me, Jaehyun, your Princess commands it.”

Jaehyun lets out a laugh, and his smile lights up his entire face. “Should we worry about a maid coming in to check on you?”

“They’ll just assume I’m off in the King’s Wood somewhere,” you tell him, fingers going to the fastenings on his armour. “Once I get this metal off of you, we can close the blinds on my four poster bed, a little more privacy that way.”

“Whatever you say, Princess,” Jaehyun nods, lips attaching to yours again as you work to undress him.

You’re not generally accustomed to undressing yourself, let alone others, and it’s clear that you’re struggling. “Here,” Jaehyun gently takes your hands, placing them by your sides. “Let me do the work.”

You sit down on the bed, watching as he expertly removes his armor. 

Soon he’s just in his under armour white shirt and pants, and you reach out to remove those next-

“Your turn, Princess,” Jaehyun tells you, gently pushing your hands away again.

“My turn?” You cock a brow before rolling onto your stomach. “Hope you're good with laces,” you grin, baring the corsetted back of your gown to him. 

Jaehyun laughs. “I think I’ll manage, Princess.”

“You better.”

Jaehyun’s shaky fingers find the laces, and he undoes the top bow carefully. Then he slowly begins to tug on each section, gently working his way down your back to open you up for him. You can feel his breath on your shoulders, and there’s something so erotic about it. He’s unwrapping you, his perfect little Princess present. 

“You’re sure about this?” Jaehyun asks again, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck, sending a tingle down your spine.

“Please stop asking me that,” you breathe, practically writhing under his touch.

“Is that a command, Princess?”

“Yes.” 

Jaehyun chuckles, returning to his task as he gets the last of your corset undone. You hold the front of your dress close to your chest as you sit up, facing him. The sleeves are falling off your shoulders, and you look up at the knight, curious to see his expression.

Your guard looks stunned, and then he says, “Wait, I never officially asked you to be my wife.”

“I thought that was a given,” you admit.

Jaehyun gets down onto one knee. “Princess, would you do me the great honour, and make me the happiest man in all four kingdoms-”

“Yes, Jaehyun, yes, I’ll marry you.” You press your lips to his and he kisses you desperately, his hands balling up in the thick fabric of your skirt.

“I want to taste you,” Jaehyun whispers.

“What?”

“I’ll talk you through everything,” The Knight of Roses promises. “You trust me, right?”

“I trust you,” you confirm.

Jaehyun presses one last chaste kiss to your lips before moving down to your throat. You love the feeling of it, and you throw your head back, moaning. You love the way he’s taking his time with you, his mouth descending. He ghosts his attention across your chest, and then, he gets onto his knees on the floor.

You watch him curiously as Jaehyun lifts up your skirt. “Lay back for me, Princess.” 

You do as you’re told, gingerly relaxing back against the bed as Jaehyun pushes your dress even higher to your hips. 

His breath fans across your core, and you wiggle desperately. The Knight of Roses hooks his fingers in your panties, dragging them down your legs.

“If you want me to stop-”

“Just do it Jae,” you whisper. “Do whatever you want.”

He doesn’t say anything else, his lips teasing up your inner thighs.

Your pussy is throbbing like it’s never throbbed before. You’ve touched yourself a handful of times, but nothing has ever felt like this.

“I’m gonna marry you,” Jaehyun tells you, pressing a kiss to your clit that has your toes curling deliciously. “You’re going to be my wife.”

You can only moan as he licks a stripe of your pussy, teasing his tongue around the sensitive bud. Your hands bunch up in the blanket on your bed, and you writhe beneath Jaehyun’s motions, prompting him to press a hand to your hips to keep you pinned.

He licks at you for a while, working you up, before his lips suction around your clit again, applying more pressure and stimulus than before.

“Oh my Gods-” you groan. 

Jaehyun returns your sound with one of his own, and the vibrations make you dizzy.

You can feel something building in the pit of your stomach- you’re not sure what it is, exactly, only that it feels amazing. 

Your moans are getting pitchier, and Jaehyun sucks harder on your clit-

That’s when the tension in your tummy snaps, and all of the sudden, summer waves are washing over you. It’s a pleasure unlike any you’ve felt- and it takes your breath away as you gasp and moan in the sanctity of your bedroom.

You quite literally see stars, your eyes clenched shut as Jaehyun continues his motions, keeping you on that pleasure cloud until you can’t take it anymore.

“Jae-” you whimper, pushing at his head.

He’s quick to draw back, and you open your eyes to see him looking up at you, licking his lips. “Was that good, Princess?”

“That was amazing,” you tell him.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he warns, rubbing his fingers through your wet pussy lips. “I’m going to stretch you out now.”

You can only whimper at his words.

“Relax for me, Princess, I’ve got you.” 

You lean back against the bed again, trying to breathe deeply as he begins to push his pointer finger into your wet hole. The feeling is foreign, but not unpleasant. In fact, as he begins to thrust his digit, it begins to feel heavenly. 

Gods, your inner walls have never been stroked like this- 

“You’re so wet, Princess,” Jaehyun muses. “Are you ready for another finger?”

“Yes,” you moan, eager to please him.

Jaehyun’s mouth returns to your clit, and he gently pushes a second finger into you. You groan at the feeling, your walls stretching to accommodate him.

“So tight for me,” Jaehyun tells you. “So perfect.”

You mewl, hips pushing toward his hand as he begins to curl his fingers inside of you. 

He works you open, and you can feel yourself relaxing more and more by the second. His mouth finds your clit again, and that sensation in your tummy returns.

You close your eyes, enjoying everything Jaehyun is giving you. 

“I think you’re going to cum again,” Jaehyun says, lips ghosting past your clit. “You going to cum for me, Princess?”

“Mmmm, yes, Jae,” you whimper, ready to agree to anything he asks of you.

His mouth suctions around your sensitive bud, and he sucks lewdly, triggering the release that’s becoming all to familiar.

You squeal with delight, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his soft hair as your high overtakes you again. Your pussy is throbbing desperately, body alive with a sensitivity you’ve never felt.

This is what heaven must feel like, you decide, as you writhe beneath the Knight of Roses, reveling in the way he’s taking care of you. You’ve always wanted someone to love you for more than your royal status, but this feeling of being worshiped is something you could get used to. 

When the sensation is over, Jaehyun pulls away again, and you take a shuddery breath. 

“I’m going to take your dress off now, Princess,” Jaehyun tells you, and you feel like a loved up, limp doll as he undresses you slowly, pressing soft kisses all along your body.

You’re fully naked for him, and you don’t feel an ounce of shame. 

Jaehyun’s eyes betray his feelings, and you can tell he’s as hopelessly in love with you as you are with him. There’s a connection here, one neither of you had admitted, but now that you have-

This is your person, and he’s going to be your person, forever. 

Your Knight of Roses begins to undress, and you can’t help the greedy way in which your eyes devour each piece of newly exposed flesh. 

He’s so perfect- his abs especially- or wait, no, just, everything. 

You feel shy for the first time when you take a peek at his cock, your skin heating with embarrassment. 

“It’s okay,” Jaehyun assures you. “I’ll go slow with you, Princess, I promise.”

“Come here,” you prompt him, crawling up to your pillows so you can be in the centre of your large four poster bed.

You watch Jaehyun draw the blinds, allowing you some inkling of privacy before he returns between your thighs.

He’s already rock hard, and you can’t help but reach out and touch him, stroking him gently while Jaehyun releases a groan of pleasure. 

The Knight of Roses leans over you, pressing his elbows into the bed while his lips meet yours.

You let go of his cock in favour of tangling your fingers into his hair, deepening the kiss.

His length teases your pussy, bumping by your clit as he begins to slowly rock his hips. 

“Are you-”

“Yes, I’m sure,” you groan. “Jaehyun-”

“As you wish, Princess,” he tells you, kissing you again before grabbing the base of his cock, lining it up with your pussy.

He teases the tip inside of you, and you groan at the stretch. Jaehyun pauses, allowing you to get used to his size a little before pushing more inside your aching core.

He’s very gentle, his mouth hot on your throat, a welcome distraction as he opens you up for himself the way no man ever has before.

Finally, he’s fully sheathed inside of you, and he releases a groan. “You’re squeezing me so tight, Princess-”

“Sorry-”

“No, it’s a good thing,” he assures you. “Feels good.”

“Good,” you grin, drawing his lips to your own.

You kiss him fiercely, getting lost in the feeling as he begins to move, slowly rocking in and out of your core.

The sensation of his cock along your inner walls turns pleasurable quickly, and soon you’re moaning against his lips. 

Jaehyun’s hand finds yours, and he links your fingers as he makes love to you. 

That tension is building in the pit of your stomach again, and you whimper. “I think- I think I’m close again,” you warn him.

“Want you to cum for me, then I can cum too,” he tells you, releasing your hand so he can bring his thumb to your clit.

You’re so sensitive from two orgasms that the brush of his digit across your bud has you mewling, grabbing at the sheets desperately. “Jaehyun-”

“I know, I’m here, I’ve got you,” he promises. 

You open your eyes, gazing up at your new lover, your protector, your future husband.

You’re overwhelmed by a feeling of complete joy, and it fills your entire being as he works you closer and closer to the edge, fucking you harder-

“Jae, I’m gonna-”

“Let go for me,” he whispers, nuzzling into your neck. “Let go for me, Princess, I’ll take care of you.”

With a whine, you release the tension in your abdomen, and for the third time tonight, your high washes over you.

You gasp, back arching, pressing your breasts up toward his chest.

Jaehyun groans deeply, hips unrelenting, fucking you through the feeling.

As your orgasm subsides, Jaehyun pulls out of you, pumping his cock as he coats your abdomen in his own release.

He lets out curse words under his breath, head bowed, eyes focused on the mess he’s making. You lay there, keeping still and watching in awe at the beautiful man in front of you.

Finally, Jaehyun lets out a grunt, his motion stopping. 

He’s breathing heavily, you both are. Then, Jaehyun runs a hand through his hair. “Let me find something to clean you up with.”

He stumbles out of the bed, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him not fully composed. You love the effect you have on him, and you lay there, in a state of complete bliss.

Jaehyun returns with a wash cloth, and he cleans the cum off your skin.

“I’ll get dressed, and when I leave, I’ll find your maid. I’ll let her know you want a bath,” Jaehyun explains.

“A bath sounds really nice,” you admit, feeling sleepy.

“I know, Princess.” Jaehyun kisses you one last time, and you lazily watch him put his clothes and armor back on.

Part of you hates to see him go, but you’re exhausted, and after your maids come in to help you with a bath, you fall into a deep, love filled slumber. 

Eight:

Jaehyun knows he’s doing the right thing as he approaches the King’s quarters. 

Jungwoo and Haechan are outside, standing guard, and they nod to their fellow knight as he passes through, knocking on the door.

The King’s authoritative voice calls a, “Come in!” and with a deep breath, Jaehyun enters.

“Didn’t expect to see you tonight,” Johnny admits, looking up from his book at the Knight of Roses.

“I have news,” Jaehyun says, his throat dry already.

“Let’s hear it.” Johnny leans back in his chair, eyeing Jaehyun suspiciously.

“Well.” The Knight lets out a deep breath. “The Princess and I-” His voice cracks, and it makes Jaehyun look at the floor. 

“Are you two engaged now, or what?”

Johnny’s question makes Jaehyun’s eyes rise again. 

“It’s about time,” Johnny continues. “You know, our family has always loved you. Even before you were officially my sister’s guard, there was something there. My mother could see it. She left her engagement ring before she went away with my father, I guess she always figured that one day, you could give it to her daughter.”

The King stands, going to his bedside table, where he pulls out a tiny box. 

“Here,” Johnny says, holding it out to Jaehyun. “Give this to her.”

“I-” Jaehyun doesn’t even know what to say. “I couldn’t possibly accept this-”

“You can, and you will, your King demands it,” Johnny teases. “You know, the whole ‘sending Doyoung to ask my sister to marry him’ thing was just a ploy to get you to act on your feelings, but I never imagined it would happen this fast.”

“You orchestrated this?” Jaehyun asks in shock.

“Of course. My sister always had this weird thing about ending up in a wild Kingdom, the North, or the West- I wanted to show her that she’d do better with someone from our own kind of land, someone more peaceful, less headstrong, that sort of thing.” Johnny sighs, forcing the small engagement ring box into Jaehyun’s hands. “She’s a summer girl, and everyone knows Summer works best with one of their own, or someone from the Spring Kingdom. All I’ve ever wanted for her was happiness, and I think she can attain that with you. You have my blessing, Jaehyun, don’t mess this up.”

Jaehyun nods. 

He won’t mess this up. There’s no way he would ever intentionally hurt you. The Knight of Roses will guard you with his life, as your husband, and your ultimate protector.

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! I had so much fun with this fantasy au, and now... I'm going to plan my Halloween fic for this year, cuz I've gotta match how good Ghostie was from 2023

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🔮 preview. The Knight of Roses is so adept with his tongue- he’d spent hours eating you out on your honeymoon, taking the time to learn every inch of your body. He knows exactly what makes you tick, and you adore that he puts an effort into all things.

cw/ tw.  Unprotected sex, exhibitionism (sex in the forest), oral ( f recieving), body worship, multiple sex positions, multiple reader orgasms, fingering, dirty talk, praise, power play,  etc…  

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 1.8k I teaser wc. 135

🌙 starring. Jeong Jaehyunl x afab!Reader

 bonus

In the year since you and Jaehyun were wed, very little has changed. You’re still head over heels for him, and he’s still completely obsessed with you. It’s a beautiful little life- the two of you spending much of your time in the castle or the King’s Wood, where you’re currently training.

You’ve gotten so much better with your swordsmanship, and you can see the pride in Jaehyun’s expression every time you even slightly get the best of him.

You get the sense that he’s still holding back- your husband would never, ever, ever hurt you, not even while training, and it fills your heart with love every time you see him adjust himself or use less power in a blow.

“Don’t be scared, my love,” you tease. “You don’t have to hold back today.”

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