#love and thunder teaser

[monstacheol]

𝔄 𝔊𝔦𝔣𝔱 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔞 𝔊𝔬𝔡

ϟ 𝕻𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: God! Choi Seungcheol x Mortal afab! Reader

ϟ 𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: Your marriage wasn't the one to be envied. Marry to one of the ruthless kings due to an arrangement from your father. Being nothing more than a pawn. And you despise it all.

On the night of drinking and celebrating, you decided to turn in for the night. As you walk into your shared bedroom, you are greeted by a God, but not just any other God. The God of Sky and Thunder. King of Gods himself. Who came with a gift.

ϟ 𝖂𝕮: 8.9K

ϟ 𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌: Dom Zeus! Seungcheol, Sub Lady! Mortal Reader, dirty talking, breeding kink, oral (f. & m receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms and multiple positions, small amount or maybe more manhandling, a bit of praise kink or more, unprotected sex (stay safe kids), crying from pleasure, size kink, choking, your "husband" talking badly about the gods, Pet name: (y/n): darling. (I feel like I miss something but if I am. Let me know)

ϟ 𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙:: @gyuguys @ateez-atiny380 @cumiily @unlikelysublimekryptonite @okiedokrie-main @kyeomiis @black-swan-blog27 @acolytees @parkweylyn @odevote118 @cherricherryy @hamji-hae @missychief1404

ϟ 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖘: This was kinda of inspired by a post I made and I thought about it and went "Yeah. Let's go for it." I did say that if my last work was good I would write the next prompt. And we're almost or at 800 notes on the last one, so here we are.

As I was writing this, I was a little nervous and kept telling myself that this isn't good and...Maybe it's not but as always, I want to improve myself. So I hope this is good as I tried my best. Not only that, I start school this month so I wanted to leave something before I take a small hiatus. I know, crazy. I literally just started but I need to focus so please enjoy this work I leave to you. Thank you for giving love to the teaser.

Please like, comment, and reblog for support and improvement, and as always. Let's go.

The room was filled with music, cheers, laughter from soldiers and giggles from women, and the smell of hearty food. It was another night in the throne room, where soldiers get drunk off their asses and celebrate while you sit back and watch them. It was disgusting to look at. Seeing how they drink without care. How they act like fools. Stuffing their faces like animals. Their boisterous behavior. It was revolting. The stench of alcohol and sweat filled the air, leaving you feeling sick to your stomach. You did not understand why men behaved this way; it was repulsive.

You heard the sound of "Ahhh" from behind you.

You turn to see the man who was your husband drinking his drink down his throat in one gulp. As he finishes, he raises his cup, shouting a loud cry that makes the soldiers cheer and raise their cups in response.

'Men.'

You shake your head in belief. "Another. Bring out more wine. Tonight, we celebrate our victory!" he declares, his voice booming with excitement. The soldiers erupt in cheers and laughter, the sound echoing through the evening as you roll your eyes at the soldiers' vibrancy. Your husband notices your exasperated expression and he smiles knowingly at you.

"Now, my wife," your husband says, pulling you close to his lap. His hand grips your chiffon dress. Your face twists with disgust as he attempts to kiss you. The taste of alcohol is heavy on his breath. You push him away gently, avoiding his advances. "Don't be so uptight, my love," he slurred, his words vaguely slurred. He grabs the bottle and pours more wine into the cup. "Drink up and join the revelry," your husband said, handing you a cup of wine.

You gently push the drink away and shake your head, declining his offer. "I'd rather not," you respond, annoyed and disappointed by his persistence. "Come now," your husband said before consuming the alcohol in his cup. "Loosen up a bit; enjoy the party," he urged, his voice growing firm. But you stand your ground, refusing to give in to his pressure and maintaining your boundaries.

"No thanks. I refuse to join in such revelry," you declare, firmly holding onto your decision. He sighs in frustration, clearly frustrated with your refusal.

Your "husband" wasn't the ideal man you pictured spending eternity with. The man you loved was kind. A man who said he would do anything for you. A man who said he would move the mountains from Olympus for you if he could.

He was the one man you ever cared for, but fate snatched him away from you as he died in battle, leaving you heartbroken and alone. You prayed for the gods to bring him back, saying you would do anything. But they didn't hear your prayers in the end. For weeks, you felt devastated and hopeless, grieving the death of your true love. A few days later, you were married to another man by arrangement. By a man who was ruthless, greedy, and only saw you as some pretty little trophy to show off to his peers. And that man happened to be your now husband. He appears one day in your land and promises your father victory in the war if he takes you as his wife. Your father approved no less, and my land was victorious, and now you are trapped here.

You did not care for him, your husband. You despised him with every fiber of your being. But you had no choice but to obey and fulfill your duties as his wife despite your husband 's constant disloyalty when he's away for war. You had to learn to accept your current reality and move on. You still thank the gods for giving you strength and tenacity despite having to put up with a man like him and his behavior. As you were lost in your thoughts, you were interrupted by the cheers and conversation of the troops.

"Did you see how we conquered our enemy?"

"They didn't know what hit them."

"Especially how our king slain their leader in a single combat?

"This victory belongs to the gods."

As you listened to the soldiers celebrate, you heard a sudden "HA" from your husband. The soldier stopped conversing as you turned to see your husband set his cup down.

"You thank the pitiful gods. And why should we thank them for our victory? No. Our victory belongs to us. Not those fickle gods who only watch from above. Our strength and determination enabled us to fight and conquer. Our bravery and perseverance ultimately led us to glory on the battlefield. The gods may have observed, but our actions secured victory," your husband said confidently.

You look at him in disbelief. How can he say that? How can he talk so boldly about them like that? You felt discomfort at his blasphemous words.

"You should not say that about the gods."

Your husband glanced at you at your words. "Oh, really," your husband spoke.

Gulping down his wine before continuing, "Share your thoughts, dear. Why should we thank those pathetic gods?" he asked, his tone challenging.

"They have given us everything to help us, and we must express gratitude for their blessings. If it weren't for them, you would not have won. We must honor them and acknowledge them. We should not anger them with our arrogance," you replied firmly.

Your husband's eyes narrowed. A flicker of annoyance crossed his face. "We continue to show our gratitude and respect for the gods, for they have guided us through many challenges and obstacles."

Your husband scoffed at your response, clearly not understanding the gravity of the situation. "Gratitude. Respect. Those are just words. Tell me, wife: Did Ares lead us to battle? No. Did Athena bless us with wisdom and strategy? No. Did the mighty Zeus himself strike down our enemies? No," he said, gulping down another cup of wine.

"It was I who led us to the battle. It was I who strategized and inspired my troops. It was us who struck down our enemies and emerged victorious." Your husband growled as his men cheered, agreeing unanimously with him.

"You see, our success is the result of our diligent work and perseverance, not some divine intervention," he declared proudly. "We are the masters of our own destiny, not at the mercy of the whims of the gods," he continued, instilling confidence in his men with his powerful words.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Your husband talks down to the gods. You were raised to respect and honor the gods. To thank them for everything they did. For the food they provided, for the safe travel home, for wisdom, for health. Everything. Now here he is, talking down to them. And you knew nothing would materialize if you spoke down to them. You felt disappointed at his lack of reverence for the divine forces that also played a part in their triumph. You couldn't understand how he could be so disrespectful to them, and you weren't going to stay there any longer and watch them celebrate.

You stood up from your husband's lap, and your husband looked at you in confusion. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"I'm going to bed."

Your husband looked puzzled and grabbed your wrist, holding you in place as you tried to pull away. "What? Just because I insulted the gods, you're really going to leave. Don't you think that's too much, dear?" he replied with a hint of frustration.

"No, my husband."

You snatched your wrist away from his grip. "What's too much is that you think I can stay with someone who insulted the gods after they granted us such favors and blessings? I cannot condone such disrespect, even from you." You turned and walked away, leaving your husband to ponder his actions.

You exit the throne room, strolling down the hall to your bedroom, feeling anger and disappointment. How can he not understand? How can a man be so selfish and ignorant? You shake your head in disbelief. As you strolled along, you saw your maid, Sumni, carrying merely a food tray. She looks up to see you and gasps slightly.

"My lady Y/N," your maid Sumni notices you.

Sumni was one of the people you genuinely enjoyed in this kingdom. She was a great listener, very attentive, and very kind. "Is everything okay?" she asks, concern evident in her voice. You pause, debating whether to confront her about your husband's behavior. But you nod your head and reply, "Yes, Sumni. I am fine. Just a bit tired, that's all."

Sumni nodded understandingly. "Would you like me to accompany you to bed?" she asked kindly. You shook your head and declined her offer, thanking her for her concern. Sumni smiled warmly at you before dismissing herself, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You continue your journey to the bedroom. As soon as you arrive at your bedroom door, you push the door open, step inside, and slightly close it. You sigh as your head presses against the frame, exhausted from the day's events.

"Long night!"

You heard a voice behind you. You turned around to see a mysterious man lying on his side across from your bed, a mischievous grin on his face. You felt a jolt of surprise at the man's unexpected presence in your bedroom. "Who are you?" you asked cautiously, your heart racing uncertainly. The man chuckled softly and replied, "I'm just someone who couldn't resist meeting you."

You glanced at the man's appearance. He had a white toga draped over his shoulder and a gold cuff wrapped around one of his biceps, which was exposed. His pec was exposed, while the other was concealed under the toga. His toga was short so that you could see his muscular legs. His eyes were pierced brown, and his smile was charming. His hair was black and wet, and he was breath-taking. The more you look at him, the more you find yourself drawn to his mysterious aura. You were so lost in thought that you heard him laugh.

"What's the matter, darling? Lost in thought?" he asks with a playful smirk.

You shook your head, cleared all your thoughts, and got to the question.

"W-What are you doing here? You are trespassing, and I would appreciate it if you left immediately," you stammer, feeling a mix of fear and fascination at the mysterious stranger in your room. The man chuckles, his grin widening as he replies.

"Oh, nothing. Just enjoying the celebration of your king's victory. As if your husband needed it," the man said.

A small scoff escaped his lips. "That your husband of yours," he continued.

"That man thinks we are not the reason behind his success. He's so power-hungry and incompliant that he can't even get on his knees and thank us after what we've done to make him victorious. I must say I don't think they'll be so happy to hear about that. It's a shame. Really. How ungrateful people can be," the man said with a hint of disappointment.

You listen as this man talks badly about your husband like he knows him. Before you could speak, he continued.

"But you, Lady Y/N."

You froze as the mysterious man said your name.

"You're such a loyal worshipper. You thank the gods for every endeavor and never falter in your devotion. A woman like you should be rewarded," the man expressed.

The way the man in front of you looks at you. It was like he was undressing you with his eyes. His gaze was intense and unwavering. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you tried to maintain your composure.

"W-Who are you?" you said, asking again.

The man smirked at my question.

"I am known by many names. Zojz. Tinia. Jupiter. Zeus. But," the man said as he slowly rose from your bed, full of confidence, "you can call me Seungcheol."

Your eyes widen in shock as you realize the man's true identity. "M-My... God," you stammer, feeling two emotions at once: fear and awe wash over you. You instantly fall to the floor, bowing. "Please forgive me for any disrespect I may have shown," you say, bowing your head in reverence.

Seungcheol chuckled softly, his grin widening at your reaction. A loyal follower, he thought to himself. He slowly approached you as you kowtowed before him, his presence towering over you. "Rise," he commanded gently, offering a hand to help you stand. As you looked up at him, you couldn't help but feel an admiration and reverence for the god standing before you.

"There will be no formalities," he said. As you take his hand and stand up, Seungcheol's eyes twinkle with amusement. He was taller than you expected, and his presence exuded a sense of power and authority that made you feel equally intimidated and intrigued.

"My god."

You were speechless. You didn't know what to say, and the words hadn't even begun to form. Seungcheol noticed your awe and chuckled softly.

"You seem lost in words right now, darling," Seungcheol said. His deep voice resonated through you, sending shivers down your spine. It was as if he could read your thoughts and emotions with just a glance.

"I- It's just that I didn't expect such a sudden visit," you stammered, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"Would you like me to leave?" he asked. You shake your head quickly. "N-No. Please stay. I didn't mean—"

"Don't worry, darling," Seungcheol interrupted with a reassuring smile. "Just teasing you a bit."

His smile was gentle and warm, putting you at ease. He then stepped away from you and trailed around the room. Taking in everything about his surroundings, even looking at the unfinished tapestry mounted on the wall. With a persistent and powerful head, he strolled around.

"Besides, I didn't want to leave without giving you a gift," Seungcheol stated.

A gift... for you...

"W-What kind of gift?" is all you can manage to stammer out of. "A special one," he answered.

"How special is the gift?" you asked, curious. Seungcheol finally stopped walking and turned back to you with a mysterious glint in his eyes, making your heart race with anticipation.

"What if I told you that your gift, your special little gift, was something that I wanted to show you? To thank you for showing such admiration for me." Seungcheol responded with a mischievous smile. Your mind raced with possibilities as you waited for him to reveal the surprise he had in store for you.

"What if I said your gift was me? Would you believe me?" Seungcheol's eyes sparkled with anticipation as he waited for your response.

"Y-you, my god," you stammered out, feeling a rush of emotions at his unexpected revelation. Seungcheol nodded, a small smile playing on his lips.

"You have been such a loyal follower. Why not reward you for your dedication? Besides, I think you deserve it," he declared as his eyes never left yours.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. Him. Your god. Offering himself. To you. As a gift. It left you speechless and overwhelmed with emotions. You couldn't. You didn't know what to say. Minutes ago, you were in the throne room with your husband and his soldiers, and now you're here with Seungcheol, your god, offering himself to you as a reward for your loyalty. The weight of his offer combined with the intensity of his gaze left you breathless and unsure of how to respond.

"My god."

"Seungcheol," he interrupted, his smile widening.

"Seungcheol. I-I couldn't conceivably accept such an offer," you stammered, turning around.

This was so much to process right now. You. You simply couldn't accept it, even though it was tempting. Even if you were completely captivated by him. You couldn't accept it. You just couldn't. The internal struggles were overwhelming as you were torn between your desire and your duty. The conflict within you was palpable, but you knew you had to answer.

You were so lost in your thoughts. You didn't even hear him coming behind you as you turned around and found him standing right before you. Frightened, you took a step back, and your back hit the wall behind you as he trapped you with his arms on either side of your head as he towered over you. Your breath quickened as you met his intense gaze.

"Why not?" Seungcheol softly asked.

His hand moved down to cup your cheek; his touch sent a shiver down your spine.

"Don't you want it? I mean, you've been such a good girl. Don't you want to be rewarded? For being such," Seungcheol said as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"Loyal."

Another is placed on the bridge of the nose.

"Good."

Then your cheek. Then he trails down your neck, and your breath is caught in your throat as he pauses right there, teasing you with his lips hovering just above your collarbone.

"Girl."

It's then that he presses his lips against your collarbone, sending a wave of desire through your body. Suddenly, he trailed kisses up your neck, each setting off a fire within you. The sensation of his lips on your skin was electrifying, and every kiss he placed made your body ache, leaving a trail of heat in its wake and your pussy clenching around nothing. As he made his way up, he pulled away slightly, his lips ghosting over your ear, and whispered, "So... will you accept this gift of mine? This gift from a god?" His voice was low and seductive.

Both of you stared at each other. His gaze was intense, making your heart race. It was then that you stopped fighting. You stopped fighting the pull of attraction between you two and gave in to the overwhelming desire as you nodded slowly. "Ah. Ah. I need words, darling," he murmurs, his voice low and seductive.

Your breath comes short as you gather the courage to respond. "Yes," you utter, your voice barely above a whisper.

Seungcheol's smile widens, revealing a hint of satisfaction before his eyes glance down at your lips. Your heart pounded as he leaned in close. Is this happening right now? Is this really happening? You close your eyes anticipating a kiss, but he stops just inches from your lips. And he made a small 'hmm' sound. A slight flutter of your eyes opens your eyes to see that mischievous smile playing on his lips. Pulling away, he walked away as you stood there watching him as your heart raced. He walked toward the bed as he sat down, his legs spread. He slowly reached his hand out. "Come here," he commanded.

There is a slight gulp in your throat. Nervous. You slowly walked toward him. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest with every step you took. As soon as you reached him, you nervously touched his outstretched palm. He smiled softly before tugging you onto his lap, inducing a gasp from you softly. His grip was tight and possessive. Your heart pounded faster than it had before, and you could feel the heat radiating from his body as he pulled you closer. The tension in the room was palpable. Anticipation hangs heavy in the air. "Now," he suddenly spoke.

Seungcheol's eyes bore into yours, innocent as ever. "Give your god a kiss," he commanded, his voice low and commanding.

You hesitated for a moment. You bite your lips as you look at his plump lips, nervous. Your palms were even sweating. Slowly you lean in to give him what he wants, but then he softly leans back, avoiding you. You tried again, and he avoided you again, backing away. Every time you tried to approach him, Seungcheol avoided you repeatedly, just to purposely tease you.

You pull back, whining and pouting at his playful taunts, and he chuckles at your reaction as he enjoys the power he has over you. Suddenly Seungcheol's hand flew to the back of your neck, pulling in and smashing his lips against yours. Leaving you clinging to his shoulder, bracing yourself. The kiss was demanding and intense, making your head spin with desire. As if he were trying to consume you whole.

Your hands gripped his shoulders, bracing yourself for the overwhelming sensation of his kiss, releasing a soft moan of pleasure. Your heart raced as you surrendered to his dominance. His tongue expertly explored your mouth, creating an electric spark within you.

He pulled away from the kiss, leaving you gasping for breath. You could still feel the lingering heat of his touch on your lips and the surge of heat between your legs, which left you yearning for more. Seungcheol looks at you with dark eyes as a smirk plays on his lips. He saw your expression. That expression that is full of bliss and desire. Seeing you like this in this moment makes his cock twitch with anticipation.

"Beautiful," he murmurs huskily.

He leans in again, capturing your lips in another searing kiss, his hands wandering over your body with possessive intent. Your breath hitched as you eagerly responded to his touch, completely under his spell. Then he flipped position as he was on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he deepened the kiss. You melted into his embrace. With each kiss and each caress, you descended deeper into the abyss of desire he had engendered. He pulls away slightly to trail kisses down your jaw and neck. His lips leave a trail of fire in their wake. You let out a soft moan, craving more of his touch. His teeth graze lightly on your skin as he leans in and bites down on your neck as your back arches in pleasure, pulling him in closer.

His lips turned into a slight smirk on your neck as he knew he had got you where he wanted you. Now Seungcheol has been watching you. Hearing you. He hears many prayers now and then coming from the temple, but yours. Your prayer was the one he anticipated the most. Oh, how you praise them. How you thank the gods. How you take what they give and never waste a single blessing, especially when his name falls on your lips. The way it falls off your tongue sounds like sweet music to his ears. He cannot deny that your devotion intrigues him. You intrigue him.

So he had to meet you. He had to see the person behind the prayers and accolades, but he had to be patient; his patience could only wear so thin as he continued to watch you from the sky above. But now that he has got you like this, under his spell. Grasping, panting, and moaning in pleasure underneath him like this. Seungcheol was completely ecstatic right now.

He licks over the bite mark he places on your neck, savoring the taste of your flesh before moving back to your lips to capture your lips in another kiss. Hands roam over your chiffon dress, feeling every curve and dip in your body beneath the fabric. He pulled away slightly, his lips ghosting over yours.

"Let's take this off."

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Seungcheol slowly pulls the hems of your dress upward, exposing more and more of your skin as he goes as he looks with hungry eyes. As the dress finally slipped over your head, his gaze darkened with desire as he saw you lying there before him. My, did you look breathtaking? From your tousled hair to your gorgeous face to how your skin glowed in the dim light to your gorgeous curves. It was like the goddess, Aphrodite herself, had craved you into existence just for him. He couldn't take his eyes off you.

"S-Seungcheol," you stammered, feeling a rush of heat flood your cheeks as his intense gaze lingered on you. The growl that he held back when you spoke his name.

You couldn't help but feel nervous about how intensely he was staring at you. You tried to cover yourself, but his hand shot out to stop you, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Why are you covering yourself?" he asked softly.

"I-I."

"Why are you covering such a beautiful sight like this?" he whispered, his voice filled with admiration. Seungcheol pinned your hands above your head as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "Don't you dare hide from me," he warned, his eyes dark with desire.

You softly gasp at his words at his command. His eyes look at you up and down. "Or," he started.

"Or," you repeat in a shaky voice.

"Or... are you just shy, Y/N?" he taunted.

You didn't say anything, but your red cheeks said it all. A chuckle escaped his lips. "My, what a shy darling I appear to have tonight," he murmured, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours. "But don't worry, I'll make sure you're not shy for long."

His free hand trailed to your breast and caressed it gently. Your skin felt so soft under his touch, and you couldn't help but exhale. He smirked at your sudden reaction. Then his hand trailed down to your underwear, feeling the wet patch forming there.

"You're so wet. Did all of that kissing get you excited?" he teased.

You struggled to answer as he rubbed his thumb over the damp fabric, causing you to whine and leak out more slick. You squirm under his touch. "Answer me, darling. Tell me, did it?" Your mouth opens, letting out a breathless "yes" before he leans in and presses his lips against yours, deepening the kiss, swallowing your moan as his fingers continue to tease you. Without breaking the kiss, he slowly slides your underwear off, exposing your most intimate parts.

Seungcheol moves off your body to kneel at the foot of the bed. Seungcheol grabs your legs, pulling you over the edge of the bed, causing you to yelp. He spread your legs apart, revealing your wet core, his gaze smoldering with hunger. He spread your folds with his fingers, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. The way your arousal glistened in the dim light made his desire grow even more intense. You look down at him, your chest rising and descending in anticipation. "Please," you whispered, your voice barely audible in the heated moment.

Oh, the way you plead for him. The way you beg him to devour you. So he did. Without hesitation, he dove in, devouring you with passion. You gasp, eyes fluttering shut as your hand tugs at his hair. The tug caused him to groan into your cunt, adding vibration. The way your arousal tasted on his tongue. It was intoxicating. It was so good. It was so delicious. It was so... addictive. With a delighted sneer on his lips, he withdrew for a while before whispering, "Fuuck. You taste divine," and then he dove back in.

The sensation of his tongue and lips on your sensitive areas sends shivers down your spine, making you arch your back in pleasure. The way he ate you out. It was different. It was something you had never experienced before. He ate you like a man who had been deprived of a feast for far too long, savoring every moment of it. And he didn't want to stop until you were completely spent and trembling beneath him.

"I just can't get enough of you. You taste so good. So sweet," he murmurs before diving back in as he continues to lap and slurp at your dripping wet core, determined to make you lose control completely. You arch your back in pleasure and moan his name, feeling the intensity build with each flick of his tongue.

His tongue moved to your entrance and inserted his tongue inside as his nose nuzzled against your clit. "Seungcheol," you moan breathlessly, feeling the pleasure intensify with each movement of his skilled tongue.

"Feel good?" Seungcheol whispers huskily, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "Yes. So good," you whisper back, completely lost in the sensations he's giving you. Your answer pleased him. His tongue expertly flicked and probed, sending shivers down your spine as you moaned in pleasure.

He went back to your sensitive nub and sucked on it gently, making you gasp and squirm with pleasure. His tongue expertly flicked and probed, sending shivers down your spine as you moaned in pleasure. You begin to feel a wave of pleasure building up deep within you, ready to crash over you. "Seungcheol. Please. "No," you begged as you shut your eyes, completely overwhelmed by the sensation.

"Look at me. Look at me," he commanded, his voice low and husky. You locked eyes with him, feeling the intensity of his gaze as he continued to titillate you with his mouth.

"Look at me as you cum all over my face," he growled, the sound sending a jolt of desire through you.

With his eyes never leaving yours, he increases the pressure and speed of his movements, bringing you closer and closer to the brink until eventually, you explode in a mind-blowing orgasm that leaves you breathless and completely satisfied. You lay there panting, out of breath. He gave one final lick, letting a whine out of you before pulling away, a satisfied grin on his lips. He wipes the last of your essence with his thumb before licking it off, enjoying the taste of your release, watching you rest in the afterglow of your orgasm.

It took you some time to gather yourself as you lay on the bed, deeply absorbed in thought. You feel trails of kisses coursing up your body, causing shivers to run down your spine as you bask in your post-orgasmic bliss. Seungcheol pulls away from your body to undress himself. Finally removing the toga from his body, revealing his naked form.

"Shouldn't I get a reward as well?" Seungcheol grinned.

You sat up slowly as you looked at his naked form. His body was a work of art, every muscle defined and his skin glowing in the soft light of the room. Your eyes travel down to see his cock standing at attention. His cock was long and thick. The tip was red and glistening with pre-cum, a clear indication of his arousal. It made your mouth water. You could already feel yourself getting wet just looking at it.

"What's the matter, darling? Never seen a cock like mine before?" He teased, his voice husky with desire.

"It's so big. I don't think it will fit," you whispered.

"Don't worry," Seungcheol said before reaching his hand out and stroking your cheek. "It'll fit," he assured. With that, he kisses your cheek before pulling you up to stand. He sits down on the bed, his legs spread. Cock, hard and ready. "On your knees," he commanded, his tone firm yet gentle. You complied and got down on your knees. You can hear him mutter 'Good girl' under his breath.

The moment you were right there between his legs, you were a vision. His hand lightly cups your chin and tilts your head up towards him, gently stroking your cheek.

"Open," he commends. You obey and open your mouth as he inserts two fingers inside your mouth, stroking the pink muscle with meticulous care, causing you to moan softly.

He slowly thrust his fingers in and out, watching your reaction closely. He could hear you gag slightly as he pushed further, testing your limits. Your eyes watered slightly, but you maintained eye contact with him, eager to please. With a smirk, he removed his fingers, giving you time to catch your breath. Seungcheol leaned back on the bed as you collected your breath, holding himself up by his muscular arms as his gaze never left yours. "Now please your god," he commanded.

You nod your head in recognition. With nervous hands, you grab his cock as you look up at him, a mixture of elation and nerves. You close your eyes and place his cock on your tongue, savoring the salty taste of his pre-cum.

"That's it. Good girl," he whispered, his words low and encouraging.

You swirl your tongue around the tip, making him bite his lips in pleasure. The moment your mouth wraps around the tip, Seungcheol groans and rolls his eyes back, tilting his head back in pleasure as he lets out a deep, guttural moan. The sensation of your warm mouth enveloping him sends waves of ecstasy through his body, making him tremble with desire.

"Fuck, darling. Your mouth feels wonderful." He reaches down to tangle his fingers in your hair, guiding you as you slowly bob your head.

He lets out a low growl of pleasure as you please him. His half-lidded eyes gaze at you with a mixture of desire and adoration, his breath coming out in short, ragged gasps. God, did you look pretty with your mouth around his cock? He couldn't take his eyes away. You look so perfect. The feeling of your tongue swirling around him. The warmth of your mouth accompanied by the wetness of your lips. The feeling of your soft moan around him and the sight of your wide innocent eyes staring up at him only intensified his arousal. He couldn't resist the urge to thrust his hips, wanting to feel more of you while constantly praising you. "You're so fucking good at this," he groaned.

"Look at you. Being such a good girl, treating your god with such reverence. You like pleasing your god?" Seungcheol asked with a smirk, his voice filled with satisfaction. You nodded eagerly, your eyes filled with desire and devotion as you served him with your mouth. "Such a good girl. Such pretty lips wrapped around me," he murmured as he guided your movements. You moan in response as he increases the pace, his words fueling your arousal even more.

His hand took you deeper until his cock hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag. He uttered a low growl of pleasure. "That's it; take it all. You were made to worship me," he whispered, his hips thrusting with increased urgency and need as he reveled in your worship. Your hand lands on his thighs as you dig your nails into his skin. Drool coming from the corners of your mouth, and tears stream down your cheeks as you try to keep up with his fast pace.

His abdomen tightened as he was getting close. Real close. "Fuck. I'm going to cum so hard in that pretty little mouth of yours," Seungcheol moans, his hips thrust forward as he nears his climax. As you wait for him to release, you can feel his body tighten, his breath catch, and his cock twitch inside your mouth. It doesn't take long before he's spilling himself down your throat, his moans and groans filling the room.

The taste of his cum lingers on your tongue as you swallow. Some spill out of your mouth and drip down your chin. You pull away with a 'pop.' "Fuck," he curses under his breath, his hand running through his damp hair as he tries to catch his breath. "Did I satisfy you, my god?" you inquired. A small chuckle escapes his lips. Oh, how you enticed him. He leans down, grabs your face, and pulls you in for a deep kiss. You melted into the embrace as the kiss became more intense and passionate, losing yourself in the moment. He could taste the lingering taste of his essence on your lips.

Seungcheol pulls away slightly, his lips hovering over yours, and answers your question. "Oh, more than you ever known, darling," he said. His lips returned to yours; the kiss was so passionate and electric. He gently stood you up, beckoning you to straddle his lap. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer as you deepen the kiss.

He rose, his hands firmly gripping your waist, and kneeled to lay you down gently, never releasing the kiss in the middle of the bed. Your bodies are pressed together in a passionate embrace. He pulls away to lay open-mouth kisses on your neck, leaving marks all over as his hand gently caresses your breast. You never had someone that drove you crazy with a desire like this. His touch was electrifying; it sent a shiver down your spine and left you wanting more. Every touch, every kiss, and every caress made you feel alive in a way you had never experienced before. And you wanted more. Your hips buckle against his touch, grinding against his body in a silent plea for more, yet he stops your hips from grinding, keeping you still.

"Seungcheol. Please."

"Patient darling," Seungcheol uttered into your neck. His voice was deep and soothing. His hand traveled to land on your wet core, and his finger began to rub tiny circle on your clit causing you to gasp.

"I need to prep you. We don't want it to hurt, do we?" He continued, his touch gentle yet firm. His hand spreads your folds apart to expose your entrance. His fingers slowly enter you, stretching you in a way that makes you moan with pleasure. "Just relax," he whispered before kissing your cheek. His slow and deliberate movements ensured you were ready for what was to come.

Then he added a second finger, increasing both pressure and intensity. The sensation of being filled and stretched by him made you arch your back in pleasure.

"That's it. That's my good girl. You're so warm," he whispers.

His mouth soon wrapped around your nipple as he scissors you open. You couldn't stop the moan from escaping. "You're doing so well," he whispers, his voice filled with admiration and desire. The mix of his sucking and biting on your breast to his finger massaging your walls made you feel close to the edge of losing control. His touch drove you insane. And when he curled his finger, touching that spongy spot, you couldn't help but moan loudly in pleasure. "There. Right there."

Letting your breast go with a pop, he murmurs, "Hm. There." His movements intensify as he focuses on that sensitive area. You nod your head, encouraging him to keep going. He smiles and increases the pressure before attacking the other breast with the same frequency. Your body arches towards him, unable to contain the emotions coursing through you.

"Look how well you take my fingers inside that tight little pussy of yours. You're doing good for me," he growls, his voice low and husky. Your moans increased as his fingers moved so rapidly that you could barely keep up with the overwhelming pleasure. Your mind had gone blank. You didn't hear anything but the sound of your own ragged gasps, the pounding of your heart in your ears, and the squelching sound of your wetness as he continued to please you.

It was so intense that you felt your whole body tremble. Every never-ending was on fire as he plowed into and out of your cunt. As he continued, you could feel the tension building up inside you, ready to explode at any moment. Your breathing quicken. Your heart raced as you were on the edge. On the edge of pure pleasure

"S- Cheol. Close," you gasp out, feeling the heat pooling in your core. His movements become more urgent, pushing you closer to the edge.

"Oh. You gonna cum again. Go ahead, darling. Cum. Cum on my fingers," he encouraged. Your breath was ragged, and your moan was loud as you finally reached your peak, intense pleasure washing over you in waves. Seungcheol's fingers continued their relentless pace, prolonging your climax until you were left trembling and spent. His movement slows down as he watches you come down from your high.

"Good girl," he praises you with a smirk as his fingers slowly withdraw from your sensitive core. You whimper as Seungcheol lightly taps your oversensitive clit a few times before slipping his wet fingers into his mouth and tasting the remnants of your desire. He moans at the delicious flavor.

"I can't get enough of you," he murmurs, his eyes dark with desire as he leans in to kiss you deeply. The taste of yourself on his lips only heightens your arousal, and you eagerly respond to his hungry kisses. He shifts himself between your legs, grinding into you as his cock presses against your slick fold.

He wrapped his hand around his cock and slowly stroked it before placing it on your entrance, collecting all of your wetness as he teased you with the tip. "Ready," he whispers huskily. You nod your head.

"Please," you beg, arching your hips towards him, desperate for him to fill you. He obliges, slowly entering you with a groan of pleasure, causing you to gasp at the feeling of fullness. And god, was he big? He was practically splitting you open with every push he made. You never knew you could be this full. Just as you took him all the way in, you felt like absolute heaven.

"Damn, darling. You feel so incredible," he murmured, his voice husky with desire.

You cling to him, feeling every inch of him deep inside you. He look at you, asking for permission to move and you granted it. He began to move in a slow and deliberate rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body. You could not help moaning in ecstasy, totally absorbed in the sensation of being conquered by him. It was a feeling that you had never experienced before. It was intoxicating and overwhelming in all the right ways. Seungcheol grated at your facial expression. You look beautiful, he thought inwardly. The way your face twisted in pleasure. The way your body moves with every thrust. The way you look underneath right now. It only fuels his desire to give you more.

So his hands grabbed your hips and plunged deeper, setting a fast pace that had you gasping for breath. The intensity of his movements matched the passion in his gaze, making you feel desired and cherished in a way that left you craving more.

"Such a good girl. Taking me in so deep," he praises, his hands gripping your hips firmly as he sets a rhythm that has you seeing stars. Your body responds eagerly to his every movement, increasing the intensity with each thrust. The pleasure is overwhelming, making you lose yourself in the moment. He lifts your leg and places it on his shoulder, opening you up even further and allowing him to penetrate even deeper. The sensation of him hitting that perfect spot deep inside you sends waves of ecstasy through your body, making you arch your back and moan uncontrollably.

"Feel good, darling," he said, his voice husky with desire.

"Yes. So good."

He smirked at your response, knowing he was driving you wild with pleasure. "Really?"

He asks teasingly, his eyes dark with lust as he proceeds to move with deliberate precision.

"I-Is-."

You started.

"Is. What is it? Come on, tell me, darling," he urged, his fingers gripping your hips firmly as he quickened his pace. The moment's intensity was overwhelming, making it difficult for you to form coherent words as you surrendered to the pleasure coursing through your body.

"I-Is. Is it good for you, my god?" You finally stammered out, your voice barely audible over your ragged breaths. He released a low, guttural groan before murmuring, "It's more than good, darling."

His movement slows down as he leans over to you, his lips hover over yours, his forehead pressing against each other, and his eyes gaze into yours as he slowly grinds into you.

"You feel so amazing around me," he whispers before his lips press against yours in a passionate kiss, sending a surge of electricity through your entire being.

Pulling away from the kiss, he took hold of your waist and plunged into you with the same rhythm but more rough and strenuous, leaving you gasping for air. The intensity of the moment is almost too much to bear; you can practically feel tears prickling at the corner of your eyes. But you welcomed it with open arms, craving the raw connection and overwhelming pleasure he brought to you.

Your body moves in complete harmony as his thrusts intensify. You were lost in the bliss of the moment. And just when your stomach began to tighten, just when you felt yourself being tipped over the edge again, he pulled out, leaving you empty. You whimpered in protest, but he flipped you over onto your stomach. Putting you on your hands and knees. His hand grips your hip tightly and enters you from behind, his movements rough and primal. You couldn't help but scream as you pressed your face against the sheets. Your back perfectly arched. The change in position only heightened the intensity of the moment, leaving you breathless, and his movements became even more intense and passionate.

"Oh god," you gasp, gripping the sheet underneath you, feeling every inch of him inside you. The sound of skin smacking against skin fills the room, your moans blending with his growls as he thrusts harder and deeper.

"Fuck, you're so perfect. Sucking me in like this," he grunts, his voice husky with desire, his eyes rolling back in his head as he loses himself in the pleasure of the moment.

His hands gripped your hips tightly, his movements becoming more intense and desperate. The tears that you held back, you finally let flow down your cheeks, mingling with the sweat that coated your skin. You can't deny it. You were in bliss. Completely lost in the overwhelming pleasure. And every time he pulled out, you pulled him back in, craving more of his touch. You were addicted to him, and he was addicted to you.

Seungcheol hovers over you as his chest presses against your back. You felt his hand wrap around your throat, tightening his grip as he pounded into you with relentless force. You moaned, unable to resist the overwhelming pleasure. You could feel his breath on your skin as he spoke in your ear.

"Tell me, my dear. Who is making you feel this good?" Seungcheol whispers, his voice deep and commanding. You can't help but moan softly in response, feeling completely consumed by him in that moment.

"Y-you are," your stammering manages to enunciate.

"Louder," he demanded.

His hand squeezed your throat, and you gasped.

"Who is pleasing you like this?" he asks, his grip tightening slightly. Your body shivers in response to his commanding tone, feeling a rush of excitement as you surrender completely to him. "You are," you finally gasp out, your voice filled with desire and need.

"More. Who is making you scream like this? Come on. Tell me. Who?" he growls, his eyes dark with desire. His grip on your throat tightens even more, sending a jolt of pleasure. You feel a surge of arousal at his dominance, unable to resist his commanding presence. "You are. You are," you chant in a breathless whisper, your body trembling with anticipation. "Only you."

"That's right. Me. All me. Not that pathetic excuse of a man you call your husband. Me. It is I who is pleasing you. It is I who is making you feel utter bliss. It is I who is making you scream for all of Olympus to hear. And it is I who's going to fill your cunt with so much of my seed that you'll be swollen with my child," Seungcheol finished, his voice dark and possessive.

Your heart races as his words send chills down your spine. The intensity of his desire overwhelms you. You can't help but surrender to the power he holds over you. His dominant presence left you breathless, and his words ignited a fire within you that you couldn't resist.

"C-Cheol," you moan, your voice barely audible.

"That's right. Say my name. Scream it if you have to. Let the whole kingdom hear. You are mine," he growls, his grip on your neck loosening as your body drops on the bed. Pulling away, his hands grip your hips as he plunges into you with primal intensity.

Your moan turned into screams of pleasure as you felt the tension rising within you once again. You knew you couldn't hold back for much longer.

"I c-ca.. so close," you whisper, feeling the heat building in your core as Cheol's movements become more urgent and desperate. Your body trembles with anticipation, on the brink of ecstasy, as you give in to the overwhelming pleasure he's providing.

"Huh. You're close. Go ahead. I can feel you squeezing around my cock. Go on. Cum on this cock. Cream all over me," he commands, his voice rough with desire. You feel yourself shatter under his touch, the world fading away as you reach your peak, crying out his name in a final release of pleasure.

You were pulsating with a mixture of pleasure and relief, your body still trembling as you came down from the intense high he had brought you to. But, oh, he was far from done with you yet. Seungcheol flipped you over on your back. Cock still lodge into you. He grabs your legs and pins them close to your chest as he bends forward and puts you in a mating press, thrusting deep and hard. And you scream in pleasure as your arm wraps around his neck, listening to the squelching wet noise coming from your abused hole. Your body quivers at the force of his movements. This position has Seungcheol in deeper than before.

"S-Seungcheol. So deep. Oh so good," you gasp out between moans, feeling every inch of him inside you. Your hands clutch his back, your nails digging into his skin as he plunges into you with increasing intensity.

"You like how I please you? You like how I reward you? Hmm. Fuck, this pussy is so good.Make me want to bring you back with me. Is that what you want? To take you to Olympus. Have you warm my bed and be treated like a queen and be bred by me again and again?" Seungcheol whispers in your ear as he continues to plunge into you relentlessly.

"Yes," you screamed. "Yes, I love it. I love it so much. I want it. I want it so badly. You fuck me so good, Seungcheol," you moan.

So does he. He wants it so… bad. The thought of you on Olympus with him in his arms, being treated like royalty, and experiencing pleasure beyond imagination drives him wild. He can't resist the temptation to have you by his side. To take you away from this kingdom. To make you his own forever.

"Please. Please make me yours. Fill me with your seed. Fill me up, my God," you beg, your voice resounding with desperation and desire.

Your words fuel his desire as he pulls away, spreading your legs apart to take hold of your waist. He slightly raises your body and picks up the pace, thrusting harder and deeper into you. You felt a wave of pleasure overtake you as he ravaged you. Soon that tension started to build up again. You call out his name, begging for release. He groans in response, feeling on edge himself.

"Fuck. I'm close. Are you ready? Ready for your gift? Make sure you don't waste a single drop. Cum. Cum with me," he growls, his voice low and husky with lust. You nod eagerly. Your hand grips the sheets tightly, and your body perfectly sync with his, meeting each thrust with equal enthusiasm.

And with a final thrust, you both came together as he released his hot seed inside you, filling you up with a sense of completion and satisfaction. Your bodies trembled with the aftermath of your shared climax, leaving you both breathless and spent in each other's arms. You couldn't hear anything but the sound of your own heart pounding. Suddenly, Seungcheol pulled out, making you whimper slowly. He noticed that his cum was slowly leaking out of your hole, so he scooped up the remaining and pushed it back inside you with his fingers, causing you to gasp. His fingers massage your sensitive walls before he pulls them out gently as he goes to your stomach, caressing it softly and looking at it fondly.

"There, darling. Your gift. And soon this gift will blossom into something truly miraculous. So they can be loved, nurtured, and cherished. You will give them your love and support, and I will guide them to be the best. You will take care of my gift, won't you?" Seungcheol said as he looked up at you, still stroking your stomach.

"Yes, I will," you replied.

"Good, and if anyone harms them," he said with a dangerous glint, "I will make sure they regret it."

You nod your head at his words. "Good girl," he commented.

His hand caressed your cheek tenderly. "I cannot wait to see our gift grow," he said, his voice filled with antiradiation.

"May our child have my eyes and your looks," you said. Seungcheol heard your response and chuckled casually.

"Yes," he said, reaching out to push back the locks. He leans in and presses his forehead against yours and whispers,

"May our child have your wisdom and my strength."

[kyunghwannie]

Impatience

Park Jihyo x M!Reader

➤ Word count: 10810 (Basically pure smut and me going feral for Hyo) ➤ Tags: Fondling/Groping, Messy kissing, Body Worship, Nipple sucking (lots of), BoobJob, Ass eating/sucking, Anal sex, Anal gaping and Creampie,Public Sex, Subtle Degradation, Dual Penetration (Vibrator usage)

➤ Teaser: Park Jihyo? The Leader of our dear TWICE? Oh, she is a total killer with her stage presence, charisma, leadership and surely her smoking visuals. During Inkigayo performing her solo debut title track "Killin' Me Good", She was totally rocking it. But of course, having a hot girlfriend like Jihyo can get you a little.. Impatient in the dressing room waiting for her while watching her performance. But, what's more fun that being caught by herself when you were gawking her recorded performance.

The dressing room is dimly lit, the muffled bassline from Jihyo’s performance still vibrating through the walls. I’m sprawled across the couch, one leg propped up, my fingers drumming impatiently against my thigh—waiting. The muted glow of the flatscreen casts shadows across the room, replaying her stage from moments ago.

And fuck, there she is.

Jihyo materializes on screen, strutting onto the stage like she owns the entire fucking venue. The camera pans up slowly, agonizingly slow—starting from those sinful black heels strapped tight around her ankles, up the toned, caramel-smooth expanse of her legs where the high slit of her skirt teasingly parts to reveal a glimpse of thigh. My teeth sink into my bottom lip. "Oh, shit"

The fabric of her skirt sways with every sharp pivot of her hips, the semi-sheer material fluttering as she spins, barely clinging to the curve of her perfect fucking ass. God, even through the screen, it looks solid—round and tight, flexing visibly under the fabric when she drops into that low crouch, her voice rasping out the bridge with enough heat to melt steel.

"You're killin' me—killin' me good—"

Her crop top rides up just enough to expose the faintest strip of skin above her waistband, taut muscles flexing as she rolls her hips in time with the beat. The arm warmers stretch tight around her biceps, emphasizing every vein, every ridge of lean muscle as she lifts her arms, fingers curling around an imaginary weapon before pointing it dead at the camera. Directly at me.

A shudder runs down my spine. I’m already hard. The realization hits like a punch to the gut—my cock straining against the zipper of my jeans, trapped and aching just from watching her. My palm presses down over the bulge instinctively, biting back a groan as the pressure sends a jolt of pleasure up my spine. Fuck.

The camera lingers on her face now—flushed, lips parted around each breathless lyric, sweat glistening along her collarbone. Her hair whips across her face as she jerks her head to the side, eyes flashing with that familiar fire. That fucking dominance. Jihyo knows what she’s doing. Every smirk, every roll of her shoulders, the way she licks her lips between lines—calculated. Designed to wreck whoever’s watching. Designed to wreck me.

My fingers twitch, itching to grip something—her—instead of the couch cushion I’m currently digging my nails into. The screen flickers as she drops into the final chorus, hips snapping in sharp, hypnotic thrusts, the slit in her skirt gaping wider— "Fuck—!"

My hand is shoved past my waistband before I can stop it, wrapping around my cock with a hiss. It’s burning, slick with pre-cum already, the tip flushed an angry red. I stroke once, twice, thumb smearing wetness over the slit as Jihyo’s voice crescendos on screen."I see you." I freeze.

The screen has cut to a close-up—her eyes locked onto the lens, into it—like she can see right through the camera. Right into this fucking dressing room. Right at me with my dick in my hand like some pathetic, horny fan. My pulse thunders in my ears. She would love this.

The thought slams into me like a truck. Jihyo strutting in later, catching me like this, her perfect brows arching as she takes in the mess of me—jeans shoved down my thighs, hand still wrapped around my cock, TV paused on her mid-performance smirk. That fucking ego of hers would inflate to unbearable levels. Her lips would curl. "Couldn’t even wait for me, baby?"

A groan escapes me, my hips jerking up into my fist at the mental image alone. She’d saunter closer, heels clicking against the floor, her skirt swaying with every step—The door handle rattles. My stomach drops. I yank my hand free like I’ve been burned, heart hammering against my ribs— But the door doesn’t open.

Just some staff member passing by, their shadow pausing briefly under the crack of the door before moving on. I exhale shakily, slumping back against the couch, my cock throbbing with neglect now. The screen still glows, Jihyo frozen mid-step, one hand on her hip, the other still holding that imaginary gun to the camera.

"You’re killin’ me good," her recorded voice purrs. I drag a hand down my face. Yeah. No shit.

The door clicks open. A rush of cool air floods the dressing room, carrying the faint scent of sweat, vanilla body lotion, and something unmistakably her. My head snaps up—

And there she is. Jihyo leans against the doorframe, one hip cocked, strands of her jet-black hair clinging to her glistening neck. Her chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, the delicate swell of her tits straining against the tight crop top as she exhales. A bead of sweat rolls defiantly down the valley between them, disappearing under the fabric. My mouth goes dry.

"Missed me?" Her voice is low, still thrumming with the adrenaline of performance, laced with that knowing lilt that makes my stomach tighten. I force a casual smirk, shifting slightly to angle my hips away—but it’s too late. Her sharp eyes flick down, zeroing in on the unmistakable outline still pressing against my jeans. Fuck.

Her lips part—first in surprise, then in delight, a slow, feline grin spreading across her face.

"Oh?" She pushes off the door, swinging it shut with her heel before strolling toward me. The slit in her skirt parts with every step, revealing flashes of toned thigh, still damp from exertion. "What’s this?"

I exhale through my nose. "You." A heartbeat. Then her laugh—rich, melodic, and smug as hell—fills the room. "Me?" She stops just inches away, tilting her head. "Little ol’ me made this happen?" Her fingers ghost over the bulge, nails scraping lightly through the denim I grit my teeth against the shudder that races up my spine. "You know exactly what you do to me.".

Her tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip. Bad idea. Now my cock is fully hard again, straining against the zipper, fucking aching for her. Jihyo hums, tapping one manicured finger against her chin. "Mmm, let me guess…" She leans in, her breath hot against my ear. "Was it the heel pop ?" Her hips sway, mimicking the movement. "Or—" Her hand slides up my chest, nails biting just enough to sting. "—when I dropped on the floor?" she mimicked the hair brush move with a slight arch of her chest without dropping on floor

A groan tears from my throat. "You’re a fucking nightmare."

She grins, all teeth. "Your nightmare." Her palm presses down, rubbing slow circles over my cock through my jeans. "And you love it."

I don’t deny it. Why would I? Her ego doesn’t need the boost, but fuck if it isn’t hot watching her preen under the admission. Her tits push forward as she arches subtly, shoulders rolling back, that pride settling into her bones. "Good," she purrs. "Now tell me—" Her grip tightens. "—did you touch yourself?"

The question catches me off guard. My hesitation is all the answer she needs. Her eyes darken. "How much?"

I swallow. "Just—a little." A lie. Jihyo sees right through it. With a scoff, she drops to her knees between my legs, hands hooking into my waistband. "Pathetic," she murmurs, but there’s no malice—just heat. "Couldn’t even wait for me to finish?"

My hips jerk as she yanks my jeans down, my cock springing free, already leaking. Her breath hitches. For all her bravado, Jihyo adores this—the size, the weight of me in her hands, the way her fingers barely meet when she wraps them around the base. She exhales shakily, thumb swiping over the tip, smearing pre-cum across the sensitive head.

"Look at you," she whispers, voice gone rough. "So fucking desperate for me."

I don’t argue. Can’t. Not when she leans in, pressing an open-mouthed kiss just below the head, her tongue flicking out to taste me. "Jihyo—" She smirks up at me, lashes fluttering. "Mm?"

And then—without warning—she swallows me down. Fuck. Her mouth is fire, tight and wet and starving, her tongue flattening against the underside as she bobs her head. The sounds are obscene—wet slurps, choked-off gasps when I thrust up instinctively, the pop of her lips pulling off just to dive back in.

Her fingers dig into my thighs, nails leaving crescent moons in their wake. I fist her hair, guiding her pace, but she slaps my hand away. "Mine," she growls around my cock, the vibration tearing a ragged groan from my chest. And fuck, she is. Every damn inch.

She pulls off with a lewd shlick, saliva stringing between her lips and my dick. Her chest heaves, her crop top straining dangerously over her tits. "Still think I’m smoking hot?" she taunts, breathless. I yank her up by the arm, crashing her into my lap. "I think," I grind out, mouth finding her pulse point, "you’re insufferable."

She laughs, high and breathy, grinding down against me. "Liar." Then her lips are on mine, messy and desperate, her hands fumbling for the clasp of her skirt. The snap of it hitting the floor is the last coherent sound before the room dissolves into heat.

Jihyo pulls back just as my fingers brush the hem of her skirt, her lips swollen from our kiss. There's a dangerous glint in her eyes—the kind that warns she's about to make me work for it.

"Not so fast," she breathes, fingers clasping the fabric shut with a teasing click. "You didn’t answer my question."

My hands flex uselessly against her thighs before dropping to my sides. "I did. I said I loved the whole damn outfit."

She tsks, shaking her head. "Too vague." Her palm presses flat against my chest, pushing me back against the couch. "Pick. One. Thing." A smirk tugs at her lips as she leans in, her breath hot against my jaw. "Or I walk out that door with this skirt still on… and your cock throbbing all alone."

My teeth grind together. She would do it. Jihyo loves power—loves the chase, the control, loves watching me unravel just because she can. But I know her better than that. "Fine." My voice drops, rough with want. "Your tits." A pause. Then she laughs—loud, unfiltered, her head tipping back in delight. "Wow. Original." But her pupils are blown wide, her fingers twitching against her skirt. I smirk. "You asked."

"I thought you’d be more creative," she sighs, rolling her eyes—but her nipples are peaked under her crop top, betraying her. "Every ONCE with an internet connection talks about my tits."

"Not like this." My hands slide up her thighs, thumbs pressing into the soft skin just below her hips. "They don’t know how fucking heavy they are when they’re bouncing in their face."

Her breath catches. "Don’t know how they taste," I continue, shifting forward until my bulge grinds against her. "Or how you whine when someone sucks them raw."

Jihyo exhales sharply, her grip on her shorts loosening. Got her. I seize the opportunity, yanking the fabric down her legs in one smooth motion. She stumbles, knees buckling, but I catch her, flipping us so she’s pinned beneath me on the couch. "Y/N—!"

"You wanted compliments," I murmur against her throat, biting lightly. "Now take them." My palms skim up her stomach, dragging her crop top with them until the swells of her tits are bare, flushed pink and heaving. Fuck. They’re perfect—full and heavy, nipples stiff and begging for attention. The second my thumbs swipe over them, Jihyo arches off the couch, a broken moan spilling from her lips. "See?" I pinch one lightly, watching her thighs clench. "Filthy and honest."

She glares, but it’s ruined by the way her hips roll up, seeking friction. "Asshole," she gasps. "Your asshole." Her hand darts down, finally wrapping around my cock, and we both groan at the contact. "Tell me more," she demands, stroking me slowly, her thumb swiping over the head. "What else do you love?"

I yank her leggings down just enough to expose her, fingers sliding through her folds. She’s soaked, clinging to my fingers the second they dip inside. "This," I growl. "How fucking wet you get just from me saying yes, Jihyo, your tits are god-tier—" She whimpers, her thighs trembling. Her grip on my cock tightens. "Keep going." So I do.

The moment my lips close around her left nipple, Jihyo's entire body jerks beneath me. A sharp gasp tears from her throat as I suck hard, swirling my tongue roughly against the stiff peak. Her fingers immediately tangle in my hair, not pulling me closer but trying to push me away. "Ah! Y/N—!" Her voice is equal parts pleasure and reprimand, that familiar leader tone cutting through despite how breathless she sounds. "Slow the fuck down or I'm gonna— ngh~!"

I release her nipple with an obscene pop, looking up to see her flushed face twisted in frustration. A string of saliva still connects my mouth to her dusky pink nipple, now glistening and even darker from my attention. "Sorry, baby," I murmur, not sorry at all as I gently thumb her right nipple through the bunched-up fabric of her crop top. "Just couldn't help myself. You're too fucking perfect."

Jihyo exhales sharply through her nose, her chest still heaving. "I swear to god, you're like a fucking puppy seeing tits for the first time," she grumbles, but the way her hips subtly roll against nothing betrays her.

Leaning down again, I make sure to go slower this time, teasing the stiff peak with soft kitten licks before gently sucking it into my mouth. Jihyo's breath hitches, her fingers tightening in my hair - not pushing me away now, but holding me there. "There you go," she murmurs, her voice dropping an octave into that sultry register that makes my cock twitch against her thigh. "Good boy~"

The praise sends a bolt of heat straight to my groin. I moan around her nipple, increasing the suction just slightly as my left hand finally slips under her crop top to palm her right breast. Fuck, they're even better without barriers - so impossibly soft yet heavy in my hand, the perfect handful with her nipple pebbled against my palm.

Jihyo's breathing grows ragged above me, her thighs tensing as I switch between thorough, slow sucks and flicking my tongue rapidly against just the tip of her nipple. Every time pleasure starts to crest, I ease off, keeping her teetering on the edge as commanded.

"F-fuck," she whimpers, her usual composure crumbling. Her free hand grips the couch cushions so hard her knuckles turn white. "Why do you— ngh~!— have to be so good at this?"

I pull back just enough to respond, my lips brushing against her damp skin. "Because you're fucking perfect, Jihyo." My thumb rolls her other nipple as I speak. "Perfect tits, perfect voice, perfect fucking everything."

The compliment makes her arch into my touch, a shudder running through her toned body. "Cheesy... bastard," she pants, but there's no bite to it - just that breathless arousal that tells me she's loving every second of this.

Returning my mouth to her breast, I lose myself in the taste of her skin, the way her heartbeat thrums against my tongue, the little hitches in her breath that tell me exactly what she likes. The crop top remains bunched up around her chest, framing her tits obscenely - like some lewd photoshoot she'd never dare do for the cameras but has no problem letting me enjoy. Every soft suck, every graze of teeth makes her thighs tremble against mine, her grip in my hair alternating between gentle encouragement and sudden, needy tugs when I hit just the right spot.

And through it all, one thought pounds in my head with every beat of my racing heart: Why the fuck is she so perfect?

My left hand trails down from her breast, fingertips skating over the smooth dip of her waist, the subtle tremble of her abs as they tense beneath my touch. But the second I reach the swell of her hip, Jihyo knows where I’m heading—her breath hitches, her thighs parting just a fraction wider in silent permission. Fuck.

Her ass is unreal—thick and toned, the kind of perfect handful that makes my fingers dig in instinctively, squeezing hard enough to hear her gasp. The sheer black fabric of her skirt does nothing to hide the give of her flesh under my grip, the way it jiggles slightly before settling back into that perfect, heart-shaped curve.

"Look at you," Jihyo pants above me, her voice dripping with lazy amusement even as her hips cant up into my touch. "Like a fucking starving man at a buffet."

I groan against her nipple, sucking harder in retaliation, relishing the way her fingers yank at my hair. "That’s right," she continues, rolling her hips so my palm grinds against her ass cheek with filthy, deliberate pressure. "Pathetic. Can’t even keep your hands to yourself for five minutes— ah!~" My thumb slips lower, brushing the crease where her thigh meets her ass, and her voice cracks. I smirk. "You love it."

She hates when I’m right. Her hand fists in my hair, wrenching my head back until I’m forced to release her nipple with a wet pop, our eyes locking. "I love," she says slowly, her free hand trailing down to trace the outline of my cock through my pants, "that you’re obsessed." A sharp nail drags over the head, making me twitch. "That you get hard just looking at me."

I bite my tongue to keep from moaning. Her grin widens. "That you’d beg to bury your face between my legs if I told you to." Fuck. My fingers flex against her ass almost involuntarily, pulling her closer, my thumb just brushing the edge of her soaked panties. Jihyo’s breath hitches, but her voice stays steady—mocking. "Go on." She arches a brow, daring me. "Tell me how bad you want it." My grip tightens. "You know how bad."

"Say it." The demand hangs between us, heavy with promise. I exhale, leaning forward until my lips brush the shell of her ear. "I’d fucking worship you," I growl, my thumb finally slipping beneath the hem of her panties, tracing slick, heated skin. "Get on my knees and thank god for making you this perfect."

Jihyo shudders, her composure cracking. "Good boy," she breathes—right before yanking me back down to her tits. The moment my fingers slip beneath the damp fabric of her panties, Jihyo gasps—a sharp, punched-out sound that vibrates through her chest and into my mouth where I’m still latched onto her nipple. Her back arches off the couch, pressing her tits harder against my face, her skin flushed and fever-hot.

Fuck. She’s dripping. My middle finger slides through her folds with obscene ease, gathering the slick that coats her, the pad of my finger catching on her swollen clit just to hear her whine. "Y/N—!"

I don’t let up. My tongue flicks faster over her nipple, sucking it deep into my mouth as my fingers work her in slow, teasing circles. The contrast is deliberate—rough where she’s sensitive, gentle where she’s aching—and it’s driving her insane. Jihyo’s thighs tremble around my wrist, her hips rolling desperately into my touch. "F-fuck, harder—"

I obey, crooking two fingers inside her without warning, relishing the way her cunt clenches, pulsing around me. "Look at you," I murmur against her breast, my voice wrecked. "So fucking wet for me." And she is—god, she is.

Her crop top is rucked up around her ribs, her tits glistening with spit, her nipples dark and pebbled from my mouth. The black short is shoved haphazardly up her thighs. Jihyo’s head thrashes against the couch, her lips parted around ragged moans. "Y-you—ah!—you like this, don’t you?" she pants, nails scraping down my biceps. "Seeing me—ngh—fall apart?"

I groan, fucking her faster, my thumb pressing firm circles against her clit. "Love it." Her breath hitches. "Say it again."

"I love it," I mumbled, dragging my teeth over her nipple. "Love how fucking perfect you are. Love your boobs, your ass, this pussy—" I curl my fingers, and she screams, her back bowing off the couch. "Love that you’re mine."

Jihyo’s orgasm crashes over her like a wave—her cunt flutters around my fingers, her thighs clamping around my wrist as she rides it out, her moans high and broken. When she finally collapses, boneless and panting, I pull my fingers free, bringing them to my lips without breaking eye contact. Her gaze darkens as I lick them clean. "You," she breathes, "are insufferable." I smirk. "Your insufferable." Then I’m yanking her up, crushing our mouths together, tasting her moan on my tongue.

The moment our lips crash together, all restraint shatters. Jihyo's mouth is hot against mine—demanding, hungry—her teeth catching my bottom lip in a sharp bite before soothing it with her tongue. I groan into the kiss, one hand fisting in her sweat-dampened hair, the other sliding possessively down the curve of her spine to grip her ass hard enough to leave fingerprints.

She whimpers, her nails raking down my bare chest before scraping over my nipples, wringing a ragged moan from my throat. The sound only spurs her on—her hips grind down against mine, her soaked panties leaving a damp streak on my abs as she chases the friction. Our tongues tangle messily, the kiss wet and gasping, neither of us willing to pull away for air.

Jihyo's hands roam greedily—palming the sculpted planes of my shoulders, squeezing my biceps hard enough to bruise, her thumbs tracing the deep ridges of my hipbones before dipping beneath the waistband of my jeans.

I shudder, my own hands mapping the sinful slopes of her body—the dip of her waist, the swell of her tits, the muscle of her thighs flexing as she straddles me. We break apart only when the need for oxygen becomes unbearable, our foreheads pressed together as we pant. "Fuck," she breathes, her lips swollen and glistening. "Yeah," I agree hoarsely, tightening my grip on her ass. She grins against my mouth before diving back in.

Jihyo breaks our sloppy kiss with a feral little smirk, our swollen lips still connected by a thin string of spit. Her fingers skate down my bare chest, blunt nails raking over every sculpted ridge of my abs before stopping right above where my cock strains painfully against my jeans.

"Mmm, look at you~" Her breath is hot against my ear as she shifts her weight, making her delicious thighs squeeze around my hips. "All sweet and tender with me like some lovesick puppy... but this..." Her palm presses down, making me groan as she strokes my hardening length. "...tells a different story, doesn't it?"

I grab her wrist, nipping at her pulse point just to hear her gasp. "Only ever sweet for y—" My voice cuts off with a choked sound as she produces a damn lube bottle from her shorts pocket—strawberry-flavored, the garish pink label nearly glowing in the dim backstage lighting. My cock jerks violently when she shakes it with a devious wink. "Ji—fuck—is that even—"

"Relax, worrywart," she laughs, popping the cap open with her teeth—god fucking damn it—before squirting a slick, translucent glob onto her fingers. The artificial sweetness mixes with her natural vanilla scent, making my mouth water. "Hypoallergenic, gynecologist-approved, and..." Her tongue darts out to taste it from her own fingers, "...kinda tasty. Wanna try?"

But my attention isn't on the lube anymore. Because holy shit—with one fluid motion, Jihyo yanks her wrinkled crop top over her head and tosses it aside, revealing those legendary milkers in all their bare, warm skinned glory. No bra. No barriers. Just smooth, sun-kissed skin stretched over plush curves, her dusky areolas already pebbled tight from anticipation. Fuck me sideways. I really am this fucking gone for her.

My hands fly up instinctively—desperate to palm those perfect handfuls, to weigh them in my grip—but Jihyo clicks her tongue, pressing a sticky lube-coated finger against my lips.

"Uh-uh," she chastises, rolling her hips in a slow grind that has the sheer overlay of her faux skirt riding up around her waist. The slit parts wantonly, giving me a sinful eyeful of her toned thighs flexing as she works me over. "Eyes up here, baby." She taps my chin. "Unless you want me to stop..."

The threat hangs between us as her slick fingers trail down my torso, leaving glistening streaks over my abs. I shudder when she swirls around my nipple, her touch unbearably light—teasing. "Well?" She leans in, her untethered breasts brushing my chest as she nips at my jaw. "What's my good boy gonna say to get what he wants?"

The moment I hit her with those puppy dog eyes - lips slightly pouted, lashes fluttering with exaggerated innocence - something dangerous flashes across Jihyo's face. Her grip tightens in my hair as she leans back, studying my expression with narrowed eyes. "Oh no you don't," she murmurs, voice dripping with mock warning. "You think that cute shit works on me after three years?"

I let my bottom lip tremble just slightly, watching with barely contained amusement as her resolve visibly wavers. Her thighs clench around my hips, that perfect pout of hers starting to twitch at the corners. Then I burst out laughing.

"Yah!" Jihyo's scandalized shriek echoes through the dressing room as she swats my chest, her warm skin flushing that gorgeous rosy pink I love. "You little shit - I was going to let you have these!" She gestures dramatically at her bare breasts, the motion making those perfect handfuls jiggle enticingly. I'm still chuckling as I reach for her, hands hovering just inches from her skin. "Sorry, sorry~ I just love when you get all pretend-mad. Your nose scrunches up right he-"

My apology cuts off in a strangled groan as Jihyo's lube-slicked hand suddenly plunges onto my cocm, her fingers wrapping around my aching length with punishing tightness. The sudden friction burns deliciously - whether from the warming lube or her spiteful grip, I can't tell.

"Now you'll really have to beg," she purrs, leaning down so her untethered breasts brush tantalizingly against my chest with every breath. Her thumb strokes slow, torturous circles around my swollen tip, gathering the pre-cum beading there. "Properly this time. None of that faux-cute bullshit."

I bite back another laugh at how offended she sounds, even as my hips buck helplessly into her touch. "Jihyo baby-"

"Nope." Her grip loosens immediately, withdrawing just enough to make me whimper. "Full sentences. Tell me exactly what you want to do to these." She arches her back, making her magnificent mounds sway hypnotically. The stray stage lights catch the sheen of sweat still glistening in her cleavage from her earlier performance.

My mouth waters as I take in the sight - her dusky nipples pebbled tight from the cool dressing room air, that subtle bounce as she shifts her weight, the way her areolas darken when I ghost my fingers just millimeters above them.

"I... fuck..." My brain short-circuits when she gives one experimental pump, her thumb smearing lube and pre-cum messily down my shaft. "I want to suck them until you scream. Bite just hard enough to make your back arch. See if I can make you cum just from playing with your nipples while I finger you-"

Jihyo's breath hitch is music to my ears. Her fingers stutter around me, that perfect composure cracking as her thighs squeeze reflexively around mine. I can feel her damp heat even through the fabric of her shorts.

"Good start," she manages, trying (and failing) to sound unaffected. Her free hand comes up to tweak her own nipple, showing off just how fucking responsive she is. "But I think-"

I cut her off by surging forward, finally capturing one pebbled peak between my teeth. Jihyo's surprised yelp turns into a wanton moan as I switch to lavish attention on her other breast, my tongue lathing broad stripes across the stiff bud.

"Cheater!" she gasps, but her hips are already rolling against nothing, her grip on my cock tightening in retaliation. "I didn't say you could- ah!~"

The rest of her protest dissolves into a high-pitched whine as I suck hard, my fingers finding their way back under her shorts to plunge into her soaking wet heat. The strawberry lube mixes with her natural slickness, creating the filthiest sounds as I finger fuck her in time with my mouth on her breasts. "Y/N I swear to god if you make me cum before I get to ride you-"

My response is to crook my fingers just right, hitting that spongy spot inside her that makes her legs shake. Jihyo's threat cuts off with a strangled cry, her back bowing beautifully as she spills over my fingers, her thighs clamping down hard enough to bruise. When she finally comes down, panting and flushed, I lick my lips and give her my sweetest smile. "...please?"

The look she gives me could melt steel. Jihyo’s entire body trembles as she comes down from her high, her thighs still quivering around my fingers buried deep inside her. Her chest rises and falls in erratic bursts, her bare breasts glistening with a sheen of sweat—nipples red and puffy from my relentless attention. Then her eyes snap open. "You," she breathes, voice dripping with venomous sweetness, "are fucked."

Before I can even smirk, she wrenches my hand away from her soaked core, pinning both my wrists to the couch with surprising strength. The movement makes her tits jiggle enticingly, but the warning in her gaze keeps me from enjoying the view too much.

"No touching," she orders, shifting back just enough to be near my pelvic area. My cock was stone hard, angry red and throbbing, precum beading at the tip. "Not your hands. Not your mouth. Nothing."

I open my mouth to protest—"Ah!" She presses a single finger to my lips, her other hand wrapping around my shaft in a punishing grip. "You don’t get to talk either." Then she strokes. Fuck. Her palm is still slick with her own arousal, the mix of her juices and strawberry lube creating an obscenely wet glide as she pumps me from root to tip. Her thumb swipes over the head on every upstroke, smearing precum in tight circles that make my abs clench. I bite down on a groan, my hips jerking instinctively, but Jihyo tsks, slowing her pace to a torturous crawl. "Uh-uh," she murmurs, leaning down until her breath ghosts over my leaking cock. "You don’t get to move either."

Her free hand trails up my stomach, nails scraping lightly over my abs before pinching a nipple hard. The sharp sting races straight to my groin, my cock twitching violently in her grip. "Look at you," she coos, her voice saccharine. "So desperate to fuck me, and yet..." Her grip tightens, her thumb pressing just under the head where I’m most sensitive. "...all you get is this."

I grit my teeth, my thighs trembling with the effort to stay still. Jihyo’s smirk widens as she watches me struggle, her strokes agonizingly slow, her fingers just shy of the rhythm I need.

Minutes stretch into what feels like hours—my cock aching, my balls drawn up tight, every muscle in my body coiled to the point of pain. Sweat beads at my temples, my breath coming in ragged gasps as Jihyo edges me with sadistic precision.

Then—finally—she picks up the pace. Her hand flies over my length, her spit-slicked fingers working me with brutal efficiency. I’m right there, teetering on the edge, my vision whiting out—"Wait—fuck, Jihyo, I’m gonna—"

She slows again, her grip loosening just enough to keep me hovering. "Not yet," she purrs, her thumb pressing down on that spot beneath the head, making me whine. "I want you dripping when you finally get to cum." I groan, my head falling back against the couch. "You’re evil." She laughs—bright and melodic—before leaning down to lick a stripe up my shaft. "And you love it."

Then her hand is moving again, fast and lewd, her fingers twisting just right on every upstroke. This time, she doesn’t stop. "Cum," she orders, her voice low and rough. "Now." I explode. Rope after rope of cum spills over her fingers, my hips jerking uncontrollably as she milks me through it, her grip unrelenting. She watches with rapt attention as I pulse in her hand, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

When I finally slump back, boneless and spent, Jihyo brings her cum-coated fingers to her mouth—slowly—sucking them clean with obscene pops of her lips. "Mmm," she hums, licking a stray drop from her thumb. "Did you change your diet? This tastes sweeter than usual."

I blink up at her, still dazed. "Maybe... Up-ed more fruit...." She grins, leaning down to kiss me—deep and sloppy, letting me taste myself on her tongue. "Good boy." Jihyo’s fingers trail down my chest, sticky with my cum, her dark eyes glinting with mischief as she leans in close. "Slump back," she orders, her voice low and husky. "Hips forward. I want you right where I need you."

I don’t hesitate. My back sinks into the couch, my cock—still half-hard and twitching—jutting up between us, glistening with remnants of lube and spit. Jihyo watches me with that look, the one that says she’s about to ruin me in the best way possible. Then she reaches for the discarded lube bottle, squeezing a generous amount into my waiting palm. "Your turn," she murmurs, guiding my hands to her chest. "Make them perfect for you."

Fuck. The moment my slick fingers touch her skin, she shudders, her breath hitching as I massage the lube into her tits, kneading the plush flesh with slow, worshipful strokes. The warmth of the formula makes her even softer, her nipples pebbling under my touch as I work her over, my thumbs circling the stiff peaks. "God, Jihyo," I groan, my voice rough. "You have no idea how fucking good these feel."

She arches into my touch, her lips parting around a quiet moan. "Tell me." I don’t need to be asked twice. "They’re perfect," I murmur, squeezing gently, watching them spill between my fingers. "So fucking full—like they were made just for me to touch." My thumbs flick over her nipples, making her gasp. "And these? Fuck. I could suck on them for hours and never get bored."

Jihyo’s eyelashes flutter, her chest rising faster as my words sink in. She loves this—loves being adored, worshipped, craved. And I love giving it to her. "You’re obsessed," she breathes, but there’s no bite to it—just pure, unfiltered pleasure at being wanted like this. "Damn right I am," I growl, dragging my palms up to her collarbones before sliding back down, coating every inch of her in slick warmth. "I’d worship these every fucking day if you let me."

She exhales sharply, her thighs tightening around mine. "Y/N—"

"I’d wake up just to suck them," I continue, my voice dropping lower. "Fall asleep with them in my mouth. Fuck, I’d die happy if I could bury my face between them one last time."

Jihyo whimpers, her hips rolling instinctively, seeking friction she won’t get—not yet. Then, with a slow, deliberate shift, she slides off my lap, sinking to her knees between my legs. "You talk too much," she teases, but her hands are already lifting her tits, pressing them together around my cock. "Let’s see if you can handle what you’ve been begging for."

The first slide is heaven. Her slick, warm skin engulfs me, her tits molding perfectly around my length as she starts to move. Up, down, tight—her cleavage is a sinful, wet vice, her nipples brushing against the sensitive underside of my cock with every stroke. "Fuck—Jihyo—" My head falls back, my fingers digging into the couch. "You feel—fuck—you feel unreal."

She smirks, her pace just slow enough to be torturous. "You like that, baby?" Her tongue darts out, licking the tip every time it peeks out from between her tits. "All that begging just to get my boobs around you?"

I groan, my hips jerking up instinctively—but she clamps down, her hands pressing her breasts tighter, trapping me in that perfect, slick heat. "Ah-ah," she chides, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. "You don’t get to move until I say so." Fuck. She’s going to kill me. And I’m going to love every second of it.

Her breasts glide over my cock like silk, slick with lube and the heat of her skin. Every slow, deliberate stroke sends shivers up my spine, my hips twitching helplessly as she works me over with those perfect handfuls.

"Fuck—Jihyo—" My voice is ragged, my fingers digging into the couch. "You’re so fucking beautiful." The words spill out of me like a prayer, raw and unfiltered. "Your skin—god—it’s like fucking gold under these lights." My hand lifts on instinct, thumb brushing the curve of her breast, tracing the warm, sun-kissed hue that glows even in the dim backstage lighting. "So soft. So perfect."

Jihyo’s rhythm stutters. For a second, her hands still, her tits tightening around me in a way that makes my breath catch. Then—slowly—her grin softens, something wistful flickering in her dark eyes. "Say that again," she murmurs, her voice quieter now.

I don’t hesitate. "You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met," I breathe, my thumb stroking her collarbone. "Every fucking inch of you—your skin, your curves, this—" My hips jerk slightly, emphasizing where I’m trapped between her breasts. "—it’s all perfect."

Her lips part, her chest rising with a shaky inhale. And then—fuck—I see it. The flicker of something old, something aching, in the way her lashes lower just a fraction. The ghost of past insecurities, of years spent under scrutiny, of comments about how she wasn’t the "right" shade of pale, how her body wasn’t the "right" kind of slim.

My stomach twists. "Jihyo." My voice drops, my free hand cupping her cheek. "Look at me." She does, reluctantly. "You’re stunning," I say, my thumb brushing her lower lip. "Not despite your skin, or your curves—because of them. Every fucking thing people tried to make you hate about yourself? That’s what I worship."

Her breath hitches. For a moment, the air between us shifts—warm, heavy, real. Her eyes search mine, and I see it—the quiet relief, the way her shoulders relax just a fraction, like she’s finally letting go of a weight she didn’t realize she was still carrying.

Then—because she’s Jihyo—she ruins it of course.

"Mmm, good answer," she purrs, suddenly squeezing her tits hard around my cock, her nails digging into my thighs. "Now beg for me to let you cum." I groan, my head thudding back against the couch. God, this woman.

Her breasts are a masterpiece in motion. Jihyo’s hands cup the full, supple weight of her tits, pressing them together with just the right amount of pressure—warm, slick, and sinfully tight around my aching cock. The lube we’d slathered over her skin glistens under the dressing room lights, turning every slow, deliberate slide into a wet, intoxicating heaven. "F-fuck—Jihyo—!" My voice is ruined, my hips jerking weakly against her grip.

She’s merciless. Every upward stroke drags the sensitive head of my cock against the soft underside of her breasts, her nipples brushing the shaft in a way that makes my thighs tremble. Then, as she sinks back down, her cleavage envelops me completely, the heat of her skin almost burning as she milks me with slow, torturous rolls of her chest. I’m drowning in her.

My fingers claw at the couch, sweat dripping down my temples as I try—desperately—to hold back. But the way those perfect tits swallow me whole, the way her breath hitches every time I twitch inside her grip— "You close?" she teases, her voice a husky purr. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, watching me with half-lidded eyes. "I can feel you pulsing~"

I choke on a moan, my cock throbbing between her breasts. She knows. So she slows down. "Jihyo—please—" Her grin is downright wicked. "Please what, baby?" The sensation is unbearable—every nerve in my body is screaming, my balls drawn up tight, my release hovering just on the edge of oblivion.

And then—"Cum." That’s all she says. One word. One command. And I break.

My orgasm crashes over me like a fucking tidal wave—my back arcs off the couch, my cock exploding between her tits with thick, messy ropes of cum. It splatters across her collarbones, her chest, her chin—some even lands in her dark, tousled hair. But she doesn’t stop.

Her hands keep moving, her tits sliding up and down my oversensitive cock, milking out every. Last. Drop. until I’m shuddering and whining, my eyelids fluttering from the sheer overload of pleasure.

Then—She leans down, her lips wrapping around the head of my cock in one filthy suck, her tongue swirling to gather the last streaks of cum clinging to me. The sensation is too much—I gasp, my hips jerking weakly against her mouth as she hums in satisfaction.

When she pulls back, her lips are sticky and swollen, her face glazed with my cum. "Mmm," she muses, licking her lips deliberately. "I love how much you adore me~" I slump back, boneless and ruined, my chest heaving. God, I love this woman.

Jihyo sways toward the vanity, her hips rolling with every step, the sheer black overlay of her shorts fluttering like a dark halo around her thighs. The mirror catches her reflection—cum still glistening on her chin, her tits, the sharp line of her collarbone. She meets my gaze in the glass as her tongue darts out, slow and deliberate, licking a stripe up her palm to clean off my spent arousal.

Fuck.

Even post-nut, my cock twitches violently against my thigh.

Then—God help me—she wiggles.

A deliberate, teasing shift of her hips, the curve of her ass flexing under the tight black fabric of her shorts. The attached veil parts with the movement, giving me a glimpse of the shadow between her thighs before it falls back into place.

That’s my signal.

I’m on my feet before I can think, my jeans kicked off in a haphazard pile as I close the distance between us. Jihyo doesn’t turn—just watches me through the mirror, her lips curling as I drop to my knees behind her, my hands sliding up the backs of her thighs.

"Like what you see?" she murmurs, arching her back just enough to emphasize the round, heavy swell of her ass.

My answer is to press an open-mouthed kiss to the curve of her cheek through the fabric, nipping lightly at the silk-covered flesh. Jihyo chuckles, the sound low and throaty, before reaching back to tap my wrist.

"Off," she orders.

I don’t hesitate.

My fingers hook into the waistband of her shorts, peeling them down her legs with reverent slowness. The black silk panties underneath cling to her skin, damp with her arousal, the fabric darkened between her thighs.

Not lace today.

I groan, nuzzling the crease where her ass meets her thigh, breathing in the intoxicating mix of her sweat and the faint sweetness of whatever expensive soap she uses. My tongue drags a hot, wet stripe over the silk, tasting her through the fabric before biting the edge of the panties and tugging them down.

Jihyo gasps, her hands bracing against the vanity as I strip her completely, her shorts and panties pooling at her ankles before she kicks them aside with one graceful foot.

Then—finally—she’s bare.

And God, what a sight.

Her ass is art—full and heavy, the flesh trembling slightly as she shifts her weight. The skin here is even softer than her tits, the kind of plush that begs to be bitten, marked, worshipped. My hands squeeze greedily, kneading the supple flesh before spreading her cheeks apart, exposing the tight, pink furl of her rim.

"Fuck, Jihyo," I rasp, my thumbs tracing the delicate skin. "You’re perfect."

She shivers, her hips pushing back slightly. "Then show me," she breathes, her voice thick. "Be good for me, baby."

I don’t need to be told twice.

My tongue licks a broad, wet stripe from her soaked slit up to her asshole, savoring the way she jerks against me.

"Y/N—!"

I groan against her skin, my grip tightening as I dive back in, feasting. Her taste is addictive—heady and hers, with just the faintest hint of something floral beneath. The soap, maybe, but mostly it’s just Jihyo, warm and musky and alive under my tongue.

I eat her out like a man starved, my lips and teeth and tongue working her rim with filthy, wet devotion. Every flick, every suck makes her thighs tremble, her moans pitching higher as she grinds back against my face.

"That’s it," she purrs, one hand tangling in my hair to guide me deeper. "Just like that—fuck, you’re so good at this—"

I redouble my efforts, my nose buried in her cunt as my tongue spears into her ass, fucking her in tight little circles. The sounds alone are obscene—wet slurps, her ragged gasps, the slick slide of my mouth on her skin.

And then—

She clenches.

"I’m—ah—close," she whimpers, her fingers tightening in my hair. "Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop—"

I don’t.

I suck her rim like I’m dying of thirst, my free hand slipping between her thighs to rub frantic circles over her clit.

Jihyo shatters with a cry, her back bowing, her ass pressing hard against my face as she cums—squeezing around my tongue like she wants to milk the pleasure straight from my bones.

When she finally slumps forward, panting, I pull back just enough to lick my lips.

"Told you," I murmur, pressing a kiss to the swell of her ass. "Perfect."

Her laugh is breathless, wrecked—beautiful. "You’re insatiable."

I grin against her skin. "Only for you."

The moment Jihyo's command leaves her lips, my entire body thrums with anticipation. My tongue drags one last lingering stripe up her soaked slit, collecting her essence like it's the finest ambrosia. Her thighs tremble against my cheeks, sticky with her arousal, as I pull back just enough to admire the glistening mess I've made of her.

"Lube me up, puppy," she purrs, arching her back to present her ass like an offering. "I want to feel every inch of you splitting me open."

Fuck.

My cock twitches violently at her words, already half-hard again despite having just come minutes ago. I reach for the discarded strawberry lube, coating my fingers thickly before pushing her cheeks apart with my thumbs. The sight alone is obscene—her tight rim clenching around nothing, her puffy pink folds glistening just below. I drizzle more lube directly onto her hole, watching as it drips down in slow, sticky rivulets.

"Look at you," I growl, pressing a single lubed fingertip against her entrance. "My exclusive little slut, begging to be stuffed in both holes like some cheap toy."

Jihyo moans, pushing back against my finger. "Shut up and fuck me already, you eager—ah~!"

Her words cut off into a sharp gasp as I sink my finger knuckle-deep into her ass, twisting slowly to stretch her. The heat is unreal, her walls clamping down like a vise as I work her open with torturous patience.

"So fucking tight," I groan, adding a second finger alongside the first. "Gonna milk my cock dry when I finally fuck this greedy hole, aren't you?"

Jihyo's breath hitches, her hips rocking back onto my fingers. "Y-yes—fuck—just like that—!"

Then—

"Vibrator. Now," she demands, jerking her chin toward her bag.

I don't hesitate.

The sleek purple toy is exactly where she said it'd be, still in its velvet pouch like some sacred relic. I flick it on, the sudden buzz slicing through the air as I kneel back between her thighs.

"DP, huh?" I smirk, trailing the vibrating tip up her soaked slit. "My perfect slut wants to be ruined tonight, is that it?"

Jihyo's answering grin is feral. "Prove you can handle me, dog."

Challenge accepted.

I press the vibrator against her clit first, relishing the way her entire body jolts, her ass clamping down on my fingers. Then—slowly—I guide it inside her pussy, inch by inch, until the base is flush against her swollen lips.

"F-FUCK!" Jihyo's nails scrape against the vanity, her reflection flushing as the vibrations ripple through her. "O-oh God—!"

I grin, twisting my fingers deeper into her ass, scissoring her open as the vibrator thrums inside her cunt. The overlapping sensations have her squirming, her thighs trembling as pleasure and overwhelm battle for dominance.

"That's it," I croon, my free hand gripping her hip hard enough to bruise. "Take it like the filthy little slut you are."

Jihyo whimpers, her head dropping forward. "M-more—please—!"

I oblige, adding a third finger to her ass, stretching her even wider as the vibrator fucks her pussy in relentless pulses. The sounds are disgusting—wet squelches, the slick slap of skin on skin, her broken moans echoing off the mirrors.

"Look at yourself," I said, forcing her to meet her own gaze in the mirror. "See how wrecked you are?."

Her pupils are blown, her lips parted around ragged gasps as she watches herself get devoured.

"Y-yours," she chokes out, her hips grinding back against me. "Always—ah~!— yours!"

The moment Jihyo gives the command to fuck her now, my body moves on instinct. I rise from kneeling behind her, my hands gripping the supple swell of her asscheeks, spreading her wide to admire the intoxicating sight—her lubed, fluttering rim, the vibrator buzzing obscenely in her pussy just below, her thighs glistening with sweat and arousal.

I coat my cock with the remaining lube in my palm, mysing slightly at the sensitivity from my earlier release. But the moment the thick head of my length presses against her tight entrance, all discomfort fades.

"F-fuck—Y/N—!" Jihyo chokes out as I push in, her back arching like a bowstring, her fingers scrambling for purchase on the vanity.

I groan, my forehead dropping between her shoulder blades as her ass clenches around me, the heat unbearable, the pressure perfect.

"God, Jihyo—" My voice is ragged, reverent. "You feel unreal."

She lets out a shaky laugh, her muscles fluttering as I bottom out, my hips flush against her ass. "Nnn—f-full—"

I give her a moment to adjust—just a moment—before pulling back and thrusting in again. The rhythm is slow at first, deliberate, each snap of my hips making the vibrator shift inside her pussy, the dual sensations drawing broken whimpers from her lips.

Then—

A knock at the door.

"Jihyo-ssi?" TWICE's manager calls, his voice muffled but clear enough through the soundproofing. "Are you okay in there? I thought I heard—"

Jihyo's breath hitches, her entire body locking up around me.

For a heartbeat, time stops.

Then—

"I-I'm fine, Manager-nim!" she calls back, her voice remarkably steady despite the way her ass spasms around my cock. "Just—ah!—just practicing... vocalizations for TTT tomorrow! We have a singing game, no?"

Holy shit.

My hands tighten on her hips, my thrusts stuttering at the sheer audacity of her.

She grins at me in the mirror, her eyes dark with challenge.

Keep going.

Her lips shape the words silently, her hips rolling back against me in emphasis.

I obey.

"Y-yeah," she continues, her voice only slightly strained as I begin fucking her in earnest, my cock splitting her ass open with every deep stroke. "The—nngh~!—the concept is really fun, so I got... carried away."

The manager chuckles outside, unaware. "Always so dedicated. How time do you need for the girls to be ready tomorrow?"

Jihyo's fingers dig into the vanity, her knuckles white as my pace quickens, the slap of skin on skin growing louder.

"Hah—early," she manages, her voice dripping with faux professionalism. "We should—oh!—start makeup by 8 AM. The lighting—f-fuck—the lighting is best then."

I can't help the whimper that escapes me, my hands sliding up her sweat-slick back to brace her.

"You're insane," I breathe against her skin, my voice barely audible.

She preens, her ass clenching around me. "And you love it."

"God, I do," I groan, my thrusts turning filthier, deeper, my cock pressing against the vibrator through the thin wall separating her holes. "You’re perfect."

Jihyo shudders, her next words to the manager coming out in a rush. "C-call time is 7:30 AM! Sharp! Ah!—I mean—please."

A pause. Then—

"...Right," the manager says slowly. "You sure you’re okay? Your voice sounds... strained."

Jihyo’s jaw tightens, her thighs trembling as I hit just the right spot, my cock grinding against her prostate with every stroke.

"I’m—hah—great," she grits out, her nails scraping the wood. "Just—ngh!—passionate about the shoot!"

Another pause. Then—

"Okay… Well, don’t overdo it," the manager says, footsteps retreating. "See you tomorrow."

The second the footsteps fade, Jihyo collapses forward, her chest heaving.

"Fuck," she pants, her voice wrecked. "That was—ah!—so hot."

I laugh, breathless, my pace never slowing. "You’re a menace."

She grins over her shoulder, her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen. "And you’re mine."

The moment Jihyo reaches between her thighs and pulls the vibrator free, a lewd schlick fills the dressing room as her juices drip onto the floor. The toy buzzes in her hand, slick with her arousal, before she drops it onto the vanity with a wet clatter.

”F-focus on me now,” she gasps, her voice trembling as my cock continues to pound into her ass, each thrust burying me to the hilt. ”No distractions.”

I groan, my hands tightening on her hips. ”Couldn’t think of anything but you.”

And it’s the truth.

Her ass is like fire around me—tight, velvet heat squeezing my cock with every snap of my hips. The obscene slap of skin on skin echoes in the small space, punctuated by Jihyo’s ragged breaths.

She’s close.

I can feel it—the way her muscles flutter, the way her fingers claw at the vanity’s edge as pleasure coils tighter and tighter inside her.

”Y/N—!” she whimpers, her back arching. ”I’m—ah!—I’m gonna—!”

Then, with a choked cry, she shatters.

Her orgasm hits like a tidal wave—her walls clamping around me as her body jerks, her thighs trembling violently. A rush of liquid spills from her pussy, splattering onto the floor in a filthy, unrestrained squirt, her juices dripping down her legs as she whines through the pleasure.

”G-god, look at you,” I rasp, my thrusts turning slower, deeper, savoring the way she pulses around me. ”So perfect like this.”

Jihyo mewls, her head dropping forward, her hair sticking to her flushed skin. ”Nnn—more—!”

But I’m not done.

Not even close.

”Tell me what you need,” I murmur, my cock throbbing inside her, my own release creeping up my spine.

She whimpers, her nails digging into the wood. ”F-fuck me harder—please—!”

I don’t hesitate.

My grip on her hips turns bruising as I ram into her, my pace turning vicious, my cock pistoning into her ass with unforgiving strokes.

”Like this?” I growl, my blunt nails leaving crescent marks on her skin.

”Y-yes—fuck—!”

Jihyo’s entire body shakes, her fingers scrambling for purchase before she grabs her bag from the table and bites down on the leather strap, muffling her screams as I destroy her.

The sound alone is filthy—her choked moans, the wet slap of flesh, the way her ass gapes around me with every withdrawal.

I could cum now.

Should cum now.

But I don’t.

Not until she tells me to.

”Y/N—!” she sobs, her voice breaking. ”I—I n-need it—please—!”

And that’s when I lose control.

My hips stutter, my cock pulsing inside her as I bury myself to the hilt, my release exploding deep in her ass.

Rope after rope of cum floods her, my vision whiting out as pleasure wrecks me, my body convulsing against hers.

Jihyo gasps, her own climax crashing over her again as she milks me through it, her walls fluttering desperately around my cock.

When it’s over, we both collapse—her onto the vanity, me against her back—our breaths ragged, our bodies drenched in sweat and cum.

For a long moment, silence stretches between us.

Then—

Jihyo laughs, breathless, her voice wrecked.

”...We destroyed the floor.”

The moment my cock slips free from her ass, Jihyo hisses, her body swaying slightly as thick ropes of my cum drip down her thighs. She turns sharply, her dark eyes narrowing—but the flush on her cheeks and the way her lips twitch betray her faux annoyance.

"Look what you did," she groans, limping slightly as she steps toward me. Her voice is still honey-thick with pleasure, despite the scolding tone. "I have a performance in two hours, and now I’m gonna feel you every time I move on stage."

I grin, reaching for her before she collapses onto my lap, her back pressing against my chest. The warmth of her skin bleeds into mine, her body curling into me like she belongs there—because she does.

"Mm, I know," I murmur, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "But you asked for it."

She pinches my thigh, her head tilting back to glare at me. "I asked for a little fun—not for you to ruin me so hard I limp!"

I chuckle, wrapping my arms around her waist as she grumbles, shifting slightly before deliberately arching her back. Then—God help me—she reaches behind herself, spreading her asscheeks apart to reveal the swollen, gaping rim still glistening with my cum.

"See?" she huffs, wiggling slightly. "It’s your fault."

My breath catches.

Even wrecked, even used, she’s stunning—her body a canvas of my devotion, marked inside and out.

"I love you," I say, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

Jihyo freezes.

Then—

Her expression softens, her fingers loosening their grip on her flesh as she turns her face toward mine. "...I know," she whispers, her lips brushing my jaw. "That’s why I let you do stupid shit like this."

I laugh, my hands smoothing up her thighs, kneading the tender muscle there. "Need me to clean you up?"

She hums, settling more firmly against me. "In a minute."

For a long while, we just sit like that—her weight grounding me, my heartbeat steady against her back. The dressing room is a mess—lube bottles tipped over, her discarded shorts crumpled near the door, the scent of sex thick in the air—but none of that matters.

Not when she’s like this.

Soft.

Mine.

Eventually, she sighs, nudging my arm. "Okay, now you can clean me up."

I grin, reaching for the towel on the couch. "Yes, Leader-nim."

She snorts, leaning into my touch as I gently wipe away the evidence of our sins—her thighs, her ass, the ache between them—before pressing another kiss to the nape of her neck.

"You're impossible," she murmurs, but there's no heat in it.

"And you love me for it," I tease.

Jihyo turns, her fingers threading through my hair as she drags me into a real kiss—slow, deep, promising.

"...Yeah," she breathes against my lips. "I do."

Time stretches like honey between us—thick, slow, sweet.

Jihyo’s weight is warm against my chest, her breathing steady as I trace idle patterns over her hip. The dressing room is still a mess—towels strewn about, the faint scent of sex lingering in the air—but none of it matters. Not when she’s curled into me like this, her fingers lazily threading through mine.

"We should get dressed," she murmurs, though she makes no move to pull away.

I hum, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. "Yeah. You’ve got a show to win."

She groans, tilting her face up to glare at me. "Don’t remind me."

I laugh, but I don’t argue.

Instead, I help her up, my hands lingering on her waist as she steadies herself. Her legs are still shaky, her thighs glistening with the remnants of our earlier activities, but she’s glowing—her skin flushed, her lips swollen, her eyes alive with satisfaction.

"Lucky your clothes survived," I tease, grabbing my discarded t-shirt and jeans.

Jihyo rolls her eyes, but there’s no real annoyance in it. "Lucky you didn’t rip them this time."

I grin, pulling my shirt over my head before turning my attention to her.

She stands there, unashamed, letting me look my fill—her body a masterpiece of soft curves and sharp edges, marked only by the faint red imprints of my fingers on her hips.

I reach for the damp towel first, gently wiping away the last traces of cum from her thighs, her stomach, the ache between her legs. She shivers under my touch but doesn’t pull away, her breath hitching when my thumb brushes just too close to her oversensitive clit.

"Y/N," she warns, but it’s half-hearted.

"Just making sure you’re clean," I murmur, pressing a kiss to her hipbone before straightening.

She scoffs but doesn’t argue.

Next, the clothes.

Her backup panties—black lace this time, always prepared—slide up her legs with ease, the fabric snug against her still-throbbing core. I take my time adjusting them, my fingers tracing the waistband before I reach for her bra.

"Arms up," I instruct, and she obeys, letting me fasten the clasp behind her back.

It’s domestic, almost routine—the way I help her into her stage outfit, smoothing out the fabric, adjusting the straps, making sure everything is perfect.

Because it has to be.

She’s TWICE’s leader first.

Mine second.

But when I step back to admire my handiwork, she looks flawless—her makeup retouched, her hair tousled just enough to look intentional, her clothes hiding every trace of what we’ve done.

Professional.

Untouchable.

Mine.

"You’re staring," she says, her voice softer now. But that teasing up-lift of her betrayed her amusement.

I don’t deny it. "Can’t help it."

Jihyo smiles, stepping closer until her palms rest against my chest. "I have to go."

"I know."

But neither of us moves.

Not until she surges forward, her lips crashing into mine with a fierceness that steals my breath.

This kiss isn’t gentle.

It’s claiming.

Possessive.

Her tongue licks into my mouth, her teeth nipping at my lower lip, her fingers tightening in my shirt like she’s memorizing the feel of me.

And I let her.

I let her take—because she owns me, body and soul.

When she finally pulls away, her breath is ragged, her eyes dark with promises.

"Tonight," she murmurs, her thumb brushing my bottom lip. "Bathroom. Don’t dare fall asleep before I get home."

I grin, catching her wrist to press a kiss to her pulse. "Wouldn’t dream of it."

She smirks, stepping back—TWICE’s leader again, untouchable—before turning toward the door.

"Oh, and Y/N?" she calls over her shoulder, pausing just long enough to throw me a look. "Wear the cuffs."

Then she’s gone, the door clicking shut behind her.

And I’m left standing there, my heart pounding, my skin still burning from her touch.

God, I love this woman of mine

(A/N: This is one of my favourite outfit of Hyo 🦄✨💝)

[sixeyesonathiel]

bloom in the blood — teaser

pairing — ares!gojo x aphrodite!reader

synopsis : in the early days of olympus, when the gods were still shaping their thrones and their names were still sharp in mortal mouths, two ascensions altered the course of heaven. one, carved from war and flame. the other, crowned in silk and worship.

they were never meant to meet.

but the world doesn’t always listen to prophecy. and when love and war find themselves in the same room—the sky holds its breath.

a/n : tags to be included just know it's a oneshot full of banter and yearning w/ smut, all i can say is prepare for satoru crashing out bcs the woman he's falling for fucks around with literally anyone but not with him LMAO. do tell if y'all want me to create a tag list for this <3 this oneshot is based from my drabbles, you can check it out here!

the sky was red, raw, still bleeding from the last war when they dragged you before the gods. your bare feet scraped the cold marble of olympus, bruised and dusted with ash, each step a reminder of the mortal earth you’d been torn from. your lips burned, stained with pomegranate wine you hadn’t chosen—left at your shrine by men with trembling hands, their eyes wet with desperation, their voices cracking as they whispered your name. your skin shimmered under the flickering torchlight, kissed by pollen, crushed gold, and the weight of offerings piled too high. mortals called you blessed. beloved. a miracle. their words clung to you like damp silk, heavy and unwanted.

but you were no goddess.

not yet.

just a woman with a face sharp enough to cut empires, beautiful enough to set them ablaze.

your gaze flicked upward, defiant, as zeus loomed from his throne—marble carved from thunder, draped in stormlight that pulsed like a living thing. his eyes, cold and ancient, studied you like a riddle he’d already decided was beneath him. behind him, olympus breathed, its golden columns trembling faintly, as if the mountain itself feared what you might become.

they called you dangerous.

not for a blade in your hand—you carried none—but because the world wielded one for you. kings had slaughtered bloodlines for a glance from you. sons had burned their fathers’ bones for the ghost of your smile. temples—holy, sacred temples—had crumbled to ash because your name lingered on mortal tongues longer than any prayer. when the gods tried to turn away, the mortals only screamed louder, their voices a tide that drowned out divine decrees.

“if she makes gods tremble as a mortal,” zeus declared, his voice rolling like a storm down a shattered peak, “then let her be a goddess. let her be worshipped instead.”

his words were not praise. they were a sentence.

they crowned you with pearls ripped from the marrow of sea monsters, their luster cold against your scalp. they bathed you in milk and honey, the sweetness cloying, sticking to your skin like a second chain. silk wound around your limbs—dyed with sunset and desire, so thin it felt like a lover’s breath—until you stood transformed, a vision too heavy to bear. they named you divine, not out of reverence, but to leash you. a crown, after all, is just another kind of collar.

elsewhere, the god of war tore a man apart with his teeth.

his name was satoru, and it still is, though mortals speak it only in shadows, pouring wine into the dirt, whispering behind bolted doors. they call him plague-bearer. butcher. saint of slaughter. but the truth is older, sharper: he was the first to ascend, not through glory or fate, but because even the underworld spat him back out. they say he died once, maybe twice—it didn’t matter. his body refused to rot. his sword never fell. every battlefield he touched still bears the scars of his hands, the earth itself remembering the weight of his steps.

“war can never be loyal,” zeus once muttered, watching him from a distance, his voice thick with something like fear. “we made him because we had to. because nothing else could stop him.”

satoru never craved divinity. but when the gods opened their gates, he strode through, blood-soaked and laughing, his grin a blade that cut deeper than steel. he killed like it was art, each stroke deliberate, each scream a note in a song only he could hear. he smiled like it hurt, like the act of joy was a wound he’d chosen to bear.

in a world where the gods were still young, still bleeding from mortal wounds, two forces were carved into being: love and war. they were never meant to meet. you didn’t know him. didn’t care. your temples rose on distant peaks, your altars draped in roses and gold, where men wept in your lap and tore each other apart just to die with your name on their lips. and far from your sanctums, satoru stood knee-deep in blood, his grin white and wild under a black sun, never knowing that the one thing forbidden to him—the one thing he might break for—was already burning with worship on another mountain.

“love has always ended wars,” the fates whispered, their threads taut between bony fingers. “but this love will start one.”

he didn’t know your name. not yet. but he would. because war always finds a reason to burn. and the gods, poor fools, had just given him his.

you.

the gods were arguing again, their voices a dull roar in the vaulted halls of olympus.

satoru leaned against a massive column, its marble too smooth, too clean for the filth still clinging to his skin. a half-empty goblet dangled between his bloodstained fingers, the wine inside catching the torchlight like liquid rubies. his armor hung loose, undone, the red and black silk of his tunic parted to reveal a chest still smudged with battlefield dirt, scars glinting faintly under the divine glow. his boots scuffed the polished floor, leaving faint streaks of mud and blood—marks of a war he’d abandoned hours ago, bored of its predictable end. he tilted his head back, pale lashes brushing his cheekbones, and watched a spider crawl across the gilded ceiling with more interest than he spared the council’s squabbles.

another pantheon forming. another city teetering on war. someone wept over tithes, another over priesthood succession—it was all the same. petty noise, perfumed panic, the soft rot of gods grasping at power they hadn’t earned. satoru’s lip curled faintly, his boredom a sharp, living thing, coiling in his chest like a beast waiting to snap.

“have you heard?” a goddess hissed, her voice sharp behind an ivory fan, pearls clinking against her goblet as she leaned toward a godling draped in rubies. “he made her divine. the mortal girl. the one whose beauty sparked three wars last year alone.”

satoru’s gaze didn’t shift, but the spider froze, legs tensing, as if it felt the air thicken. he didn’t look at them—not yet. not until the word slipped from their lips like a curse.

“the new goddess,” they whispered, reverent and afraid. “goddess of love.”

he laughed, a sound that cut through the murmurs like a blade through silk. not polite. not cruel. something raw, guttural, that made lesser gods flinch and the marble itself seem to shiver. he pushed off the column, muscles flexing under pale skin, the goblet swaying dangerously in his hand. his mouth curled into something too sharp to be a smile.

“goddess of love?” he echoed, dragging the words slow, like they tasted of ash. he stepped into the circle, wine sloshing against gold, his boots leaving faint smears on the floor. “what, she fluttered her lashes and someone handed her a throne?”

silence.

a few gods shifted, their robes rustling like dry leaves. one chuckled, too nervous to stop, and choked it back under satoru’s glance. the air tightened, heavy with the weight of his presence—smoke, cedar, and something scorched clinging to him like a second skin.

“love doesn’t win wars,” he muttered, tossing the goblet aside. it hit the steps with a dull clink, wine pooling red and rich, seeping into the cracks like blood. “love dies screaming on battlefields. love is what weak men beg for before i take their heads.”

his lip curled, baring teeth still stained with the memory of violence. “she must be fucking useless.”

he didn’t think of you again. not until the festival.

it was a spectacle he despised—loud, gaudy, drowning in gold and laughter too sweet to trust. a celebration of the seasons, where gods flaunted new robes and mortals poured honey-wine with trembling hands.

satoru had been summoned, not invited, dragged in like a blade on display. he slouched in a throne too polished, near the edge of the marble amphitheater, a goblet loose in his hand, the wine inside warm and sour. his other hand rested on the hilt of a dagger hidden under his robes—not because he needed it, but because its weight felt more honest than the applause.

he watched nothing. heard less. the perfume in the air stung his throat, thick with jasmine and myrrh. the lyre’s notes clawed at his skin, too soft, too delicate. he shifted, restless, the silk of his tunic catching the light, red and black like a wound half-healed.

then you appeared.

he didn’t see you first—he felt you. the hush that fell, sudden and absolute, like a thousand throats catching at once. the sunlight shifted, bending as if it answered to something greater than itself. then you stepped into view, and the world tilted, just enough to make his breath hitch.

you weren’t dressed to be seen. you were dressed to be worshipped.

translucent silk clung to your body, whispering secrets with every step, its edges catching the light like liquid flame. your skin glowed with divine ichor, kissed by gold dust and perfumed oils that smelled of lotus and something darker, sweeter. your hair was pinned with ivory combs, delicate strands spilling over your shoulder, catching the sun like threads of molten glass. each step was silent, commanding—not ethereal, not fragile, but like gravity itself knelt to you.

your eyes swept the crowd, slow, dismissive, lips parted just enough to hint at indifference. you offered nothing but presence, yet every god and mortal leaned forward, supplicants at an altar they hadn’t chosen. your hands were bare, wrists unbound, and somehow, every divine being forgot what power tasted like.

satoru blinked, his grip tightening on the goblet. for a moment, he thought it was a trick—a glamour, a curse. but no. you weren’t trying. you didn’t need to.

you didn’t look at him. not once.

and that was the problem.

his fingers clenched, wine sloshing over the rim, dripping onto his thigh. something coiled in his chest—sharp, nameless, alive. by the time he realized he was standing, the goblet had cracked in his grip, gold bending under his strength. his palm bled, slow and deliberate, wine mingling with blood, trickling down the stem in delicate streaks.

he didn’t notice.

couldn’t.

not when you were gliding across the marble like a storm on the verge of breaking, your gaze never once faltering in his direction.

his breath slowed, not calm but honed, like a predator scenting something it hadn’t learned to name. every instinct rose, ancient and patient, stirring under his skin like a tide pulling back before a crash.

you didn’t speak. didn’t smile. didn’t flinch.

and that made it worse. because satoru had killed kings for less. because gods had begged for his glance—and you didn’t even spare him a thought.

the silk of your dress shivered as you passed a column, your shoulder brushing the edge of shadow, and he could swear it trembled in your wake. behind you, a chorus lifted their voices, their song soft and reverent. he didn’t hear it. not really.

he was watching the way your bare foot kissed the marble, the arch of your ankle, the tilt of your chin like you carried the weight of a crown you hadn’t asked for. he saw the way your hands rested at your sides, loose but commanding, as if you could summon oceans with a flick of your wrist.

you were beautiful. too beautiful.

but it wasn’t that.

it was the nerve.

you hadn’t even looked at him.

and now you’d never leave his thoughts again.

weeks passed, and your name became a wound. once a curiosity, it grew into an invocation, spoken in places it didn’t belong—on battlefields, by dying men whose last breaths weren’t for war but for love. soldiers carved your sigil into their armor, scratched it into blades like a charm against death. queens knelt at your altars, clutching roses and begging for your favor before sending their sons to slaughter.

and satoru hated it.

not because it rivaled him. not because it mattered. but because every time your name crossed mortal lips, it clawed beneath his skin, a splinter that refused to bleed out.

so he did what he always did when the ache grew sharp—he picked a fight.

he stormed your temple in the middle of a rite, dust still clinging to his greaves, blood crusted along his throat like a second skin. his tunic was torn, dark with sweat and ash, and his mouth curved in something too wild to be a smile. laughter lingered in the cracks of his lips, though his eyes were cold, sharp, like a blade half-drawn. the doors groaned under the weight of his steps, and every priest in attendance forgot how to breathe.

acolytes scattered like doves, their robes fluttering in panic. dancers froze mid-turn, silk suspended like a held breath. the air thickened, heavy with incense and the scent of crushed petals—hibiscus, lotus, rose—cloying and sweet, clinging to the back of his throat.

only you didn’t move.

you sat on a platform of rose-quartz steps, draped in sheer ivory that caught the torchlight like moonlight on water. garlands of hibiscus curled around your ankles, their red petals stark against your skin, like blood spilled in offering. lotus petals floated in a shallow basin at your feet, their scent thick with honey and something deeper, darker. your posture was relaxed, one elbow resting against the curve of your throne, fingers tangled lazily in your hair, as if the world hadn’t just shuddered at his arrival.

but you felt it. he knew you did.

your face was unreadable beneath a thin veil—until you lifted it. your eyes met his, not with fear, not with awe, but with a flicker of irritation, like a cat disturbed by a sudden noise.

“you’re not supposed to be here,” you said, your voice low, silken, sharp enough to draw blood.

satoru stepped forward, boots crushing a garland underfoot, the petals snapping like bones. the sound echoed in the vaulted chamber, louder than it should have. his pale hair clung damply to his brow, blood dried along his cheekbone, dark against skin that glowed like moonlight. his smirk was mean, carved from something jagged.

“then make me leave.”

incense twisted between you, thick and heavy, curling upward like it, too, waited for your next move. petals bled under his boots—red, white, bruised—sticking to the leather like offerings gone sour. his shoulders rolled back, lazy but deliberate, like a beast stretching before a hunt.

you didn’t rise. didn’t blink. your eyes dragged over him, slow, unimpressed, taking in the blood, the sweat, the torn silk. “you think you can scare me into reverence?”

he scoffed, circling the altar like a storm circling its eye. “i think you’re used to men begging.”

his grin sharpened, teeth glinting in the torchlight. “i’d rather die.”

“pity,” you murmured, standing at last.

your voice was quieter now, but it cut deeper, each syllable a needle under his skin. you stepped forward, and the floor seemed to shrink beneath him. your chin tilted, crown catching the light, shoulders squared in soft defiance. the silk of your robes whispered as you moved, the sound louder than it should have been in the silent hall. “dying is the only thing you’re good at.”

he laughed, low and dangerous, the sound rumbling like thunder trapped in his chest. blood lingered between his teeth, a faint red stain when he bared them, and for a heartbeat, your gaze lingered on his mouth—too long, too sharp.

there it was. the spark.

“you think love matters on a battlefield?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper, daring you to lie.

your gaze didn’t waver. “i don’t need to fight,” you said, stepping down to his level. the silk barely rustled, but the room tightened with every inch you closed. “they destroy themselves for me.”

his mouth twitched, not amusement but something darker, hungrier. “then you’re just another coward,” he hissed, and now he was close. too close. his breath was fire, his presence heat, cedar and blood and something scorched. “you watch from your throne while the world tears itself apart in your name.”

you stared up at him, unmoved, gold at your temples glinting like a challenge. “you kill to feel alive,” you said, soft but vicious, each word a blade. “i make them beg to live.”

you leaned in, just enough for him to catch the sweetness on your throat—lotus, honey, divine. “which of us is the monster?”

and everything stopped.

satoru froze, his smirk fading, his breath catching like a blade in his chest. the air cracked, too thick, too heavy, incense flaring upward like it feared what came next. the god of war—untouchable, insatiable—stood still, not because he couldn’t move, but because something in him didn’t know how.

you weren’t afraid of him. you didn’t want him. you didn’t need him.

and that was the moment he started to burn.

you turned away first, veil slipping back down with a flick of your fingers, the gesture effortless, dismissive. you sat, the hem of your robe curling around your ankles like water, the room exhaling with you. the acolytes trembled in the shadows, their breaths shallow, their eyes darting between you.

behind you, satoru stood in silence.

his fists clenched, knuckles white, blood seeping from where his nails bit into his palms. his breath came sharp, chest heaving once—twice—then stilled. his eyes traced the curve of your shoulder, the fall of your hair, the way your fingers rested on the throne like you held the world in your palm.

he didn’t leave.

not yet.

he stayed, long enough to make the acolytes’ hands shake, long enough to memorize the shape of your silence. because now he knew your name. and war never forgets.

you weren’t a threat to peace—you were a reason for war to breathe again.

[daechwitatamic]

Cinnamon || KMG {teaser} - coming Feb. 7!

(banner by @sailorsoons)

Written for the Lonely Hearts Cafe Collab!

Cinnamon mingyu x fem!reader (nicknamed Sunny for Reasons), reader x male oc for a while fluff smut angst best friends to lovers, roommates to lovers, idiots to lovers all apply NSFW - minors DNI

Summary: You finally decide to try and move on after years of waiting for Mingyu to return your feelings. But when you start bringing your new boyfriend around more often, things with Mingyu get... difficult.

WC: 19k teaser wc: 900

Warnings: language, recreational drinking and overdrinking, a brief mention of throwing up from a hangover, angst and hurt feelings, not miscommunication but definitely refusal to communicate, kissing (some with mg and some with a male oc), arguments, reader and mingyu are both imperfect people who make mistakes and do things wrong... theyre not bad or toxic people but their choices can be hurtful... theyre humans who mess up have to just do better going forward, quick and prosey piv smut

teaser warnings: language, angst, drunkenness

a/n: beta'd by @sailorsoons and @eoieopda smooch smooch love yall

--

Mingyu is an avalanche. Rushing, rolling, thundering over and through you until there’s nothing left but a glinting field of ice and silence. Nothing else matters - nothing else exists - in his wake.

“You better watch out, Mingyu,” Jeonghan says from the couch, and your blood runs as cold as that field of ice, because you know he’s about to start some shit. “Sunny got flowers from her lover today. That guy’s coming for your woman.”

You’re opening your mouth to reprimand him - tell him to shut up, or something - but Mingyu beats you to it.

“Sunny’s not mine,” he says simply. 

All that ice evaporates in an instant like it was never there.

“My lover,” you echo with a frown, when you can speak again. “Don’t say it like that, you weirdo.”

“Well, isn’t he?” Jeonghan asks innocently.

You head for your bedroom with a roll of your eyes. “Goodnight, Jeonghan.”

“That means yes,” he sing-songs, and you slam your door shut.

Wonwoo’s voice floats through the door. “Who pissed off Sunshine?”

Mingyu responds with a growl, “Who do you think?”

–

You and Mingyu lay side by side in the grass, a late spring night unspooling with cricket song and a smattering of flickering stars above you. His arm touches yours and you can feel his chest shift as he breathes deeply.

You feel content - you feel infinite - you feel like one of those blinking stars. You feel like you could lay here next to him in silence and be happy until your light goes out, just like theirs. 

“Mingyu,” you say, turning to look at him. The grass tickles your cheek. 

He turns to look at you, too. It’s dark, here behind the university’s main hub, most of the lights on the far side of the building. Still, there’s enough light to see his eyes, steady on you, his gaze serious.

“Sunny Baby,” he responds, voice low, like he’s telling you a secret. “I love you.”

You startle awake, heart pounding, and you’re immediately furious. 

“Fuck,” you hiss, punching your mattress once. 

The pathetic truth is you dream about that night in undergrad all the time - you and Mingyu on one of the last nights before summer break, leaving a party together and laying in the grass behind the advising department building watching the constellations rotate above you. 

The pathetic truth is the dream never follows the script, always turning the scene sideways, making it something different than what it was.

The pathetic truth is that Mingyu had been blacked out, more fucked up than you’d ever seen him, and you’d laid in the grass because you physically couldn’t keep him upright any further than that and you’d had to text Wonwoo to come help you. 

You hadn’t said anything to Mingyu - at least not something meaningful. You might have said please don’t puke on me, or god, you weigh a ton, or how many jaegerbombs did you do? 

He had said he loved you - had slurred it, eyes closed. 

You had laughed, even though it had sent a dagger through your chest. “Okay, Romeo,” you’d teased, and checked your phone to see if Wonwoo was on his way to help. 

“I do,” he’d insisted, one hand patting the grass next to him like he was trying to find you. “Sunny, I love you.”

You didn’t know how he meant it - still don’t know, to this day, because you don’t think he even remembers saying it and you’d been too afraid to bring it up.

What were you supposed to say? Hey, when you were blacked out last night, you said you love me… do you mean like… platonically… or…? 

God. The idea of it is just as humiliating now, years later, as it had been in the weeks that followed that night. And though he’s said it regularly since then, he never said it like that, and you never pushed it. 

Now, awake and furious and sad at three in the morning, you grab your phone and climb out of bed. 

You know you shouldn’t. You know it’s only making this worse for you. But you make your way on light steps through the dark and silent apartment to Mingyu’s door and push it open.

Is it mithridatism, this thing you do? Microdosing on the poison so that a full dose won’t kill you? No, that isn’t right. A full dose of Mingyu won't kill you. It’s an absence of Mingyu that you need protection from.

You climb into his bed and poke at his calves with your toes until he grunts as he wakes. Then, as he gathers his senses, he rolls to look at you over his shoulder.

“Bad dream?” he asks, voice kind of breathy with sleep.

“Mhm.”

He rolls the rest of the way, lifts his arm so you can scoot a little closer. You breathe easier immediately. It makes no sense that the thing that hurts you is also the only thing that makes you feel better. 

“Won’t your lover object to you getting in bed with me?” he asks, and you can hear the edge in his voice as clear as day.

You let out a single, wry ha. He’s got a point, but Daeyoung isn’t your boyfriend, you aren’t exclusive, and what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

“Nah,” you say easily. “I’m not his.”

--

Welcoming to the world the fic I have lovingly dubbed Cinnamingyu!!! Coming Friday, February 7th!!!

read the full fic here!

[metranart]

"(Y/N), you've been in there for over forty minutes," you heard Gojo state from the other side of the door, "and the shadow under the door tells me that you're still in this world," the chuckle from Geto furrowed your eyebrows, "—maybe you should let us give you a hand."

ft. Gojo & Geto x reader, All sorcerer's x reader, Toji x reader. Isekai where you are transported into jjk universe and your way back to your world is cumming.... poor little, shy reader.

JJK Men X Reader (Isekai Shameless smut teaser)

It had been a hard day at the office, your work was sometimes too boring and tedious, and although at twenty-something you should be going out since it was Friday night, you preferred to ignore the text messages from your friends and go back to relax in your apartment with a nice bubble bath, your favorite anime, Jujutsu Kaisen, a pint of your favorite ice-cream and a bottle of delicious wine.

The sky roared in the distance with the threat of a storm, and the smell of rain invaded your nostrils, it tended to be so relaxing to sleep with the sound of the rain around you. Every second that passed your evening got better and better.

Taking your favorite bath salts, you opened the bathroom window to place a scented candle in the rim. Your apartment was not a big deal, but you adored it, it had the right spaces and somehow always made you feel as if all the rooms were connected. Allowing you to take a bubble bath and watch TV from the living room at the same time.

Wrapping yourself in a soft towel, you took a large rubber toy – your sister’s latest Christmas gift– and danced into the living room taking the remote, the pint of ice-cream and a spoon and an expensive glass from the kitchen along with a freshly open bottle of red wine. You carefully placed all on the small table by the tub and shed from the towel immersing your leg in the water to test the temperature –perfect– diving fully, enjoyed the heat on your skin for a few minutes before opening your eyes and set to play a Jujutsu Kaisen episode. 

Taking the remote, lazily began to switch between the episodes, season one was great but season two had a charm that you couldn’t deny. You had loved it, it had made your eyes drip more than once, Gojo and Geto were your favorites, and Toji and Nanami... Ugh! It was unfortunate that many of these had died in the series and that was why in your mind you imagined it differently.

In your mind it was a utopia. Geto didn't die or turn evil but instead became a teacher along with Gojo. Toji did not die but made a truce with the Zenin Clan to take care of Megumi. Nanami didn't die— NO ONE died! Even so, the rest of the story remained the same and that's how you liked to imagine it.

Playing one random episode, you returned your attention to the ice cream and wine, the storm was already here. Thunders interrupted the peace from time to time and droplets of rain hit the window harmonically, the voices of Gojo and Geto coming from the TV helped your imagination fly, and your hand went for your rubber friend.

Your fingers slid under the hot, bubbling water until they reached your warm center where they delved between your folds and began to caress, your ears paying special attention to Gojo and Geto’s voices as slowly started to pump, in and out, it wasn’t enough and your rubber friend joined the party, slipping inside you with a single thrust. Thunder interrupting from time to time, as your imagination did its trick. 

Slowly, your moans began to gain volume, but still were drowned out by the storm around you. Perfect, that way you wouldn’t have to worry about the neighbors. You accelerated enthusiastically, and your thumb pressed over your clit. Fuck! You were close, and closer and closer…. And suddenly Gojo was laughing, and that bubbly sound makes it for you. Now, you were coming, hard and glorious. The excitement making you lose your balance, as a loud and magnificently, thunder roared and sparked the night sky, at the same time, your frame spasmed while cumming.

Your body submerged under the hot water, and you felt as if were sinking into the sea, the water covered you completely for a moment too long and the need for oxygen catapulted you out, grabbing frantically to the edge of the tub, gasping and heaving, in a combination of post-orgasm and suffocation. Hanging from the porcelain, unable to refocus your eyes, you were still seeing white, stars behind your eyelids when you heard Suguru Geto's voice again. 

“Satoru, why did you call me if you had a girl in the bathtub, you perv?”

You didn't remember those dialogues, what episode were you watching?

“A girl in the bathtub?” Now you heard Satoru Gojo's voice reply in confusion, “I think I’ll know if I had a girl in the tub—”

A flash of lightning interrupted his sassy comeback and finally your eyes focused again, your center continued to palpitate in pleasure and for a moment, you thought you were in a wet dream, because Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto were standing in front of you—In person! In the flesh! Were you dreaming? Had you drowned and this was heaven?

“……Hello, t-there….” Gojo spelled, dumbfounded, mouth hanging open “…. pretty girl….in my tub?” he drawled, like trying to make sense to the vision in front, “—not that I’m complaining but….” He took a few, slow steps closer and you could only stare, “….h-how? - how did you get in here?”

You couldn't believe your eyes, how could this be!? You looked around and noticed that you weren't in your apartment. This wasn't your tub, nothing was familiar, except for the storm outside.

“—So, you didn't invite her?” Geto asked an astonished Satoru, who shook his head before spelled, “—if I had invited her…. I assure you. YOU wouldn't be here.”

Geto snickered a little under his breath, his eyes never straying from you, analyzing you in detail while bikering about the current event, Gojo’s gaze followed his example.

Neither of them looked relaxed as they would have you believe, both seemed tense, fists clenched, pupils dilated, breathing accelerated, eyes unable to focus on anything other than you….

“—Then let's ask her,” Satoru ranted, interrupting the discussion and taking a couple of measured steps towards you, crouched down to be at eye level, you hugged your naked body, and he softened his tone before asking. “Who sent you here? The higher-ups? a clan? some sect?”

Gojo was waiting for your answer, and you had no idea what to say, how could you explain to them that they were the characters of an anime series. While they were arguing you did some thinking, and the only thing that came to your mind was the possibility of having been transported to the Jujutsu Kaisen world, maybe something related to the storm… or something like that?! You had no idea, but this certainly wasn't your world—… but it wasn't the normal anime timeline either… Suguru should be Kenjaku, right?

“…. Kenjaku?” You tried, looking at Suguru and he raised a thin eyebrow. Gojo glanced at him over his shoulder and the black-haired shook his head at him.

“Kenjaku?” Satoru repeated, quizzically. “Who is Kenjaku, darling? Is he the one who sent you?” his hand landed on the rim of the bathtub, “or… is he the one you are running from?”

Fuck! This was a problem, not only had you changed worlds, but you had changed to a Jujutsu Kaisen timeline that you couldn't even predict. This was freaking canon; this couldn't be happening—

“Hey, calm down, everything’s fine. We are not going to hurt you.” Gojo reassured, taking his hand away from the rim of the bathtub to raise both hands in mock surrender wearing a soft, lingering grin on his lips. 

Your distress must have shown on your features and Gojo softened his voice even more, “why don't you start by telling us your name,” he smiled warmly this time, and your heart skipped a beat, “…. shit—you are damn cute…” he found himself whispering under his breath, and coming to his senses, added louder. “I-I'm sure it's a pretty name.”

Geto stared down at his best friend for a long moment and out of the blue, left the bathroom, and the two were left alone.

Satoru Gojo's blue eyes were no joke, they were piercing, enthralling and so unbelievable pretty, that you had to force yourself out of the trance to reply.

“…….. (Y/N).”

“(Y/N),” he tasted how your name rolled down his tongue and grinned even wider, “I knew it would be a beautiful name…. so fitting—”

“—Let’s get you out of there, shall we?”

Geto returned quicker than anticipated, with a large towel hanging from his arm, and instead of offering it to you, he stepped closer, stopping in front of the tub next to Satoru where waited for you to come out. Your gazes crossing for a long, greedy second before he turned around. 

“Come on, we won't look...” he asserted and giving Satoru a little kick for him to get up, “turn around, Toru, so she can get out.”

Satoru stood and then spined on his heels, both facing the other way while Geto held the towel for you to wrap yourself in. The sound of water rattling and drops splashing on the floor let them know that you had trusted them. You wrapped yourself in the soft, warm material and it was when you tried to pull it further that you noticed that Suguru wasn’t planning on letting go, but instead, turned around, your eyes met his chest from the height difference and in a very unexpected motion, the sorcerer collected you in his arms, bridal style.

"I heated the towel in the dryer," he informed you as he walked out of the bathroom followed by the white-haired prodigy, "-I didn't want you to get cold."

You muttered a weak. “T-Thanks,” and you reduced to let him carry you out.

Satoru raised both eyebrows— Going to such trouble for a stranger, Suguru was kind but... was he that kind?

Something was odd. It wasn't just your sudden naked appearance in his bathtub, but also that cozy feeling that had his heart beating a thousand per second, his hands sweating, his stare strapped to you, cheeks warm as if in a fever, skin crawling due to the mere sound of your voice, and that unsettling and equally mesmerizing, thrill.

Satoru Gojo was experiencing a strange and unusual pang of possessiveness that forced him to—

"Dress in one of my shirts," he demanded, in a high-pitched tone, "It’ll surely dwarf you-...since you're so small-"

"Pocket size..." Geto noted, still holding you against his broad chest. The bathroom where you appeared was connected to Satoru’s bedroom, so the bed was the best place to set you…. nevertheless, that didn’t follow through. Suguru Geto had sat on the bed but had not released you, instead had placed you on his lap like a child being dried by his devoted mother. 

“I don't want you to get sick,” he claimed when notice you staring, “so I might as well do it.” He claimed with a soft grin, using the extra-large towel to dry you thoroughly.

The grin on his lips felt terribly engrossed like if charmed, sending a festival of goosebumps all over your vulnerable, naked form. You had to look away, and he chuckled. Satoru quickly searched through his drawers to hand you a white t-shirt, “Here! Try this one."

Hesitantly accepting the shirt, your cheeks filled with blood when you noticed that the two of them just wouldn’t quit looking at you.

"I can do it myself," you announced.

"I bet so... but I'm afraid we can't leave you alone," Geto assured, and Gojo seconded him, "we'll turn around to give you some privacy, but we can't leave the room."

You nodded with some reluctance and Geto slipped out from under you to stand next to Satoru and turn his back to you.

After a moment, they both heard the wet towel fall to the floor and the shiver that ran through them was inevitable— what the hell was wrong with them?! why were you so damn irresistible.... they only needed to share one look, for their bestie telepathy to work and quickly realize, both were feeling the same pull.

Satoru peeked to the side a little and Suguru immediately held him by the jaw with a firm grip. "...Don't even think about it, Toru." 

The white haired merely shrugged amused, and waited for you to finish.

Satoru's shirt was indeed huge on you, covering up to the middle of your thighs. The rain had stopped and now the moon shone big in the starry sky. You looked out the window and were surprised by how similar both worlds were.

"—How am I going to get back home?"

"Where is home?" 

Satoru's voice so close startled you and he was quick to apologize with a chuckle. He walked backward never losing you from his sight and carelessly drop on a nearby couch. Geto soberly sat on the bed, and both flanked you, the only exit a door that you had no idea where it would take you. You sighed heavily.

"This is not my world," you announced firmly, and they both listened attentively, you spinned on your heels to face them, hugging your body. "I know it sounds crazy, but this is not my universe," maybe you were going to leave out the fact that they were characters from an anime, "I belong to another universe where there are no curses, no cursed energy, no sorcerers-"

"-But you still know every term of this world..." Satoru intervened. "Better said 'Secret terms'," Geto added, "-how do you know what cursed energy or curses are?" he inquired, shifting his weight to rest his elbows on his knees, "...... not even a civilian of this world knows that, only those trained in the Jujutsu world."

You felt a lump in your throat. “I-I…. your world is…… a fairytale in mine….” Dammit! that was the best way you could explain it, in so little time. Both sorcerers shared a look. “I know everything about you guys. Even the most intimate details, I mean—”

“How old am I?” Satoru questioned.  

“28.”

"When is my birthday?"

"December 7th."

“And Suguru’s?”

“27 years old, his birthday is February 3, you both went to Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical School with Shoko Leiri, Nanami Kento and Yu Haibara,” With each piece of information you released, their skepticism decreased, either you were telling the truth, or you were the best trained spy in history. “Your teacher and current Headmaster is called Masamichi Yaga. You have a sweet tooth, Satoru and Suguru prefers Zaru Soba, Satoru hates alcohol—” 

“Okay…” It was Geto who interrupted you, “Let's say that-…let's say we believe you.” He did not seem very convinced of his statement but still continued, “…. I assume your goal is to return to your world?”

He asked and Satoru pursed his lips.

"Would be ideal."

The conversation continued for a few hours, and the excitement of being in the presence of Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto slowly dissipated as you realized that you were trapped in a world where curses ate people or killed them mercilessly. This world had its pros and cons and without cursed energy, the cons outweighed… unless-

“—How do you know if you have cursed energy?”

You were curled up, hugging your legs to your chest while resting against the headboard of the bed, Gojo was lying lengthwise at the end and Geto pacing side to side.

“Do you see curses?” Gojo questioned and you shrugged.

“We can test it out when we take you to the school,” Suguru advised, “so we'll know for sure.”

“Sounds good…. Well, does anyone have any progress on the plan to return me to my world?”

They both pouted their lips and Satoru began to ramble about various ideas, some comical, some too complicated but all really aimed to make you laugh and relax. 

“—I seriously doubt that is even legal in any world.” You chuckled and the white-haired grinned pleased while lying on his back, loving the bubbly sound of your cute laugh.

Suguru gave him a playful smack to then sat on the edge of the bed. “Cursed energy leaks from the human body, accumulates, and ferments over time until a cursed spirit manifests.” He explained like a teacher. “This is only the case with non-sorcerers, as sorcerers we are trained to control and channel our cursed energy into jujutsu. Cursed energy becoming our primary power source.”

“Meaning?” Satoru pressed in a bored tone.

“Something akin to the creation of a curse could have happened on her plane," he mused, "...some intense feeling coming from her could have catapulted it... you mentioned that you were taking a bubble bath before being transported here," Suguru held his chin, "maybe you were doing something else while taking the bath?" he wondered, glancing at you from the rim of his shoulder. "Perhaps, something enticing?"

“…Nothing out of the ordinary just a relaxing bath in the tub, with a glass of wine and—”

You stopped your story at once and they both looked at you strangely.

“If you hide information from us, we will not be able to help you.” Suguru stressed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Whatever it is, we won't judge you,” Satoru insisted, “…we're just trying to help you.”

You bit your lip, not wanting to confess that you had been masturbating while listening to their voices from the episode on TV. This was information you would prefer to keep till your dying day.

“N-Nothing, I was just bathing…. I don’t know what else I could be doing-….”

“Masturbating?” Satoru clarified and your face turned beat red.

“We found your…. toy,” Geto confessed, scratching the back of his head, awkwardly. “It was at the bottom of the tub. It seems that dildos are an element that our two worlds share.”

You wanted the earth to open up and swallow you whole, you hid your heated face behind your hands, and could hear their dissimulated chuckles before a stream of encouraging comments began, but no matter how hard they tried, were only making you feel more embarrassed.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, (Y/N)." Gojo kept going, "a lot of girls can't reach orgasm with just their fingers..." Suguru face-palmed but Gojo ignored him, "it takes a special technique, long thick fingers," you curled up further into yourself feeling awfully dizzy, "your little fingers can’t reach the right places,” he pointed out and smashing his closed fist on his palm enthusiastically, beamed, “unless you massage the clit exclusively, that way-"

You heard Gojo choke on his next words and thanks to your position couldn't see Geto smothering him with a pillow as he shot daggers through his eyes. "Thank you for the extensive and highly unnecessary explanation, Satoru-"

Satoru and Suguru began to quarrel like when they were young.

"Unnecessary?” Gojo gasped, feigning be offended, “—I was getting to the point before you interrupted me, Suguru,” he complained, “I think that might be our way to go” quickly added, ".... orgasm is a strong sensation which the body and mind can easily confuse with the feeling of euphoria, if we recreate the event maybe we can return her to her world."

OH MY! Could this be a dream!? You pinch your arm, but nothing happened. 

There was a dead silence that prolonged and eventually you peeked through your fingers. They were both looking at you, waiting.

Capturing a lock of hair between your fingers, nervously twirled it to then gulp some spit and a so needed mouthful of air, before saying with burning cheeks. "It-It's worth a try."

-

No matter how hard you tried, the toy that had traveled with you from another universe refused to start, and you found yourself in the painful need to use your fingers. Satoru had not been wrong in his verdict, it was true that you could not reach orgasm just using your fingers... you were too impatient to hunt for the sensation, too inexperienced to know where to touch exactly and immensely shy to ever ask for some external help that would aid you in your homework. So, there you were, locked in Satoru Gojo's bathroom, playing the strings but not getting the glorious notes.

Knock! Knock! knock!

It was the third time they interrupted you.

"(Y/N), you've been in there for over forty minutes," you heard Gojo state from the other side of the door, "and the shadow under the door tells me that you're still in this world," the chuckle from Geto furrowed your eyebrows, "...maybe you should let us give you a hand—"

You flung open the door and to your surprise, Gojo didn't even flinch. Almost as if he had been anxiously waiting for you to give up on your efforts and beg for his support.

"-Are you suggesting that I let two strangers jack me off in order to return to my world?"

Those were the last words you thought you would ever say.

Geto hid an amused smirk behind his hand, but Satoru was more brazen, and his smirk didn't shy away.

“We're not strangers, (Y/N),” Satoru said very confidently, gently putting a strand of your hair behind your ear, “you know us better than we know ourselves, don't she, Geto?”

"I had already forgotten how much I like Zaru Soba," Geto commented from his spot on the bed, broad back leaning against the headboard as he munched away an instant Zaru soba soup that he found in Satoru's pantry "-I am immensely grateful to you for reminding me, pretty."

"See," Gojo bit down a laugh that would surely only help to get you madder, "we're not strangers, besides it's not like you have any other options, do ya?"

You pouted your lips and your brow wrinkled, to what Satoru's invasive thumb quickly smooth it out gently, sliding motion that felt way too lovingly as it went up and down your skin. His face now inches from yours.

"Let us help you," his minty breath caressed the tip of your nose, and you felt a shiver run down your spine, "you didn't appear in my bathtub by accident," maybe it had something to do with the fact that you were masturbating while listening to their voices but that was classified information that they would only get out of you with torture, "...as we see it, we are in charge of you until we can return you to your world," Satoru straightened up and wrapping your wrist in his big palm began to guide you towards the bed until the back of your calves bumped with the mattress, "-so, our mission is to help you in any way possible."

There was something extremely captivating in the sweetly way in which he was looking at you, and glancing at Geto, you recognized this same warmness reflected in his raven eyes. Would it be possible for them to find you attractive? Or to find you as irresistible as you found them…

"Will you allow us to take care of you, little one?"

*READ THE 9000 WORD COMISSION IN MY PATREON. (Includes lots of smut content and NSFW art from scenes of the fic. Plus, lot of JJK NSFW content)

[miabebe]

Reverse Trope Series - Too Many Beds (Teaser)

You shared 25 years of your life with Seunghceol, what was another 4 nights right?

Pairing - Choi Seungcheol x reader

Word Count - 488 for the teaser ( The full fic is around 11k, give or take? It was supposed to be below 2K, I fucked up)

Genre - Enemies to lovers? Frenemies to lovers? Lovers to lovers? Idk man, these two are idiots and I love making them pine hehe

Warnings - none for the teaser, maybe an reference to Seungcheol's dick

Estimated posting date - 6th July, 5pm KST (I don't have a taglist but I am happy to tag if anyone wants? Just drop comment or send an ask/message :)

Edit - It's out! Read here :)

“Absolutely not.” 

“No way in hell.” 

Seungcheol glared at you as you narrowed your eyes at him. 

“I’m not sharing a room with him.” 

“I don’t wish to even breathe in her vicinity.” 

“Then maybe I should do mankind a service by being around you more.”

“The only way you can help mankind is by shutting your mouth.” Seungcheol leaned closer, his voice dropping. “You’re not pretty enough for all the stupidity that comes out of it.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Rich coming from you. If I had a face like yours, I’d sue my parents.” 

“Aw, fifth graders can insult better than you sweetheart.” 

“That was a fact darling.”

“Ah” The two of you turned to the receptionist, finally remembering her presence as her confused eyes flickered between you and Seungcheol. “So the two of you are dating?” 

Looking at her incredulously and with unadulterated disgust, the two of you immediately took a step back. 

“No!” 

“No!” 

“I’d rather stub my pinky toe on furniture everyday that date her-” 

“And I’d rather choke on my own spit everyday than date him-”

“Oh baby, I knew you were a desperate one. How about I give you something to better to choke on-”

“Honey, are you sure? I heard you can stack fruit loops on that puny thing-” 

“Enough!” The old woman behind the counter got to her feet, putting her hands on her hips, the never-ending squabbling finally getting to her. “If either of you say another word, I will personally put you both in the tiniest broom closet I can find and trust me, the ones in this lodge are devastatingly small.” 

You immediately shut up, dreading that idea more than anything. Seungcheol too became uncharacteristically and thankfully, quiet.

“Now, as far as your room is concerned, your company booked only one room, number-” She glanced at the paper in her hand and pulled out a pair of keys from the drawer. “- 68. If you can bear each other for 4 nights, well and good, get moving. If not, then take your things and get out of here. Good luck finding another lodge in this miserable weather.” 

And as though on cue, a bright light, followed by a loud thunder flooded the room, taking aback all three of its inhabitants. From the corner of your eye you saw Seungcheol visibly gulp, well aware of his fear of thunder.

Seungcheol too heard the way you sniffled, knowing that your rhinitis would only get worse with the humidity rising outside.

Sighing with the realization that there was no way out of this, both of you reached for the keys at the same time, making the old woman snatch it faster than the damn lightning to avoid yet another fight from breaking out.

Ringing for the bellboy, she handed him the keys before he took your suitcase and Seungcheol��s bag in one hand each, leading the way to your despair of the night. 

[maymeteorite]

obligatory post before acheron's release

obviously, it's established that acheron is a variant of raiden mei. her real name is not actually acheron (confirmed through the livestream, but...come on, we all already knew that). specifically, there's loads of similarities in her design to the herrscher of thunder above all else

similar hair structure, hair part, n hairpiece (n obviously the color, too),

sword structure, patterns, n nearly identical handles,

one "red" arm,

the bust/halter,

and of course, the color scheme as shown in acheron's "emanator" form, n the horns shown in the livestream

with all that in mind, i imagine acheron is a variant of mei who failed to save the person closest to her (her kiana, to simplify it), n/or watched them die, or even killed them herself. it's shown during her dance with black swan that there was obviously someone important to her in her past, conflict arose in a setting much like the one featured in the livestream, n there's even imagery of her walking alone with only the moon in the sky to keep her company

kiana has been associated with the moon n moon imagery since the flyme2themoon days; her origin was quite literally a game about blasting off to the moon

this teaser resembles thunders over nagazora to me, as well as mei watching kiana's end in honkai gakuen

there's also the fact that the type of emanator acheron is, an emanator of nihility, is classified as a self-annihilator; those who have felt the pull of nihility n been unable to escape drowning in it. self-annihilator's take the meaning of nihility to heart, so much so that it erodes their bodies n memories

acheron has been confirmed as the self-annihilator type in her character introduction posted recently. what really strikes me about this line is the phrasing of "existence is nothing"

sounds familiar, doesn't it?

mei is characterized by the tragedies in her life, n how they impact her. growing up isolated, a kidnapping at a young age, bullying at school, suicidal tendencies, n the constant reminder that the girl she loves more than anything in the world will always put the overall well being of humanity over herself

to me, acheron is a mei shaped by loss. the mei we remember from hi3 had the chance to grow n change; to learn from her mistakes, n to fight for a better world, bc she had the support of her friends n her most important person. acheron doesn't seem to have that level of support from anyone, at least not anyone still in her life currently

which brings me to my next point. she HAD a "kiana," but ultimately lost her. n this is the result

acheron is incredibly powerful, but her power seems incredibly volatile. she carries this innate sadness with her wherever she goes, n the very path she walks n the very aeon she became an avatar of strips life of all meaning, all the beauty from the world

it's a far cry from the mei we know, bc clearly, there was a very pivotal change in her development that i can only attribute to the loss of her world's "kiana"

[jakescapes]

ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴀɴᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴀʀꜱ

pairing: stranger!jake x reader (f)

synopsis: When a plane crash leaves you stranded on a deserted tropical island with an unreasonably attractive man you've never met, survival is your only priority—at first. What will happen once you both let your guards down around each other and sparks start to fly?

warnings: angst, fluff(?), slight age gap (jake is in his early twenties and reader is in mid twenties), kind of proof read, explicit smut, sub jake (kinda), there is one sexual scene where it seems like non-con/dub-con but i swear they are consenting pls dont take it that way 😭🙏

word count: 12k

author's note: omg i'm finally done with this fic i actually like how it turned out and there's kind of a plot twist but omg smut scenes are so hard to write for what (also ik i put mutual virginity loss in the original warnings for the teaser but i ended up changing my mind lol)

mood board

-------------------------

The flight was supposed to be the start of everything new. A clean slate. A fresh beginning. You had packed up your life into a single suitcase, clutching your boarding pass with a mix of nerves and excitement. The airport had been crowded, bustling with people coming and going, but you barely noticed them. Your mind was already in the future, in the life that awaited you once you landed.

This was supposed to be the moment you left everything behind, the doubts, the regrets, the people who didn’t believe in you. You told yourself this was your chance to start over, to finally become the version of yourself you’d always wanted to be. And for a while, as the plane soared smoothly through the sky, you believed it.

Then, everything went wrong.

It happened so fast, yet somehow, it also felt like slow motion. One moment, you were staring out the window, watching the clouds stretch endlessly beneath you. The next, the plane jolted violently, sending your stomach lurching into your throat. 

Gasps rippled through the cabin. Then came the screaming.

The oxygen masks dropped from above. People fumbled with them in blind panic, hands shaking as they secured them over their faces. The lights flickered. The whole aircraft trembled like it was being shaken by an invisible hand. You gripped the armrests, knuckles white, heartbeat thundering in your ears. The gut wrenching drop, the way gravity seemed to forget its own rules. The sharp, deafening crack of impact, metal screaming as it tore apart, salt water swallowing the wreckage whole.

The plane dropped. Plummeting so fast that your body lifted from the seat, the seatbelt digging into your stomach. The sensation was sickening, like a free fall with no end. Children were crying. Someone else was praying. Others were saying their last goodbyes to their loved ones. The pilot’s voice crackled through the speakers, but you couldn’t process the words, just the sheer terror laced in them.

A violent, crushing force. Cold water, so much water. The world spinning, tumbling, breaking apart. A desperate struggle to breathe, to move, to live.

And then, nothing.

-------------------------

When your eyes fluttered open, the first thing you saw was blue. The sky, bright and cloudless, so painfully beautiful that for a second, you forgot where you were. You blinked, feeling warmth on your skin, something soft beneath you. Sand.

Am I dead? 

Wait, no.

You’re alive.

The thought rushed in like a tidal wave, overwhelming and disorienting. You sucked in a sharp breath as you pushed yourself up onto your elbows, sand clinging to your damp clothes. The world tilted, your head throbbing in protest. You took a moment to steady yourself before really looking around.

Blinking the blur from your vision, you take in the scene around you. Wreckage is scattered across the shoreline, twisted metal, suitcases, bits of the plane that no longer resembled anything recognizable. A life vest fluttered in the breeze, tangled in the branches of a palm tree. The ocean, impossibly blue and endless, stretched toward the horizon, calm as if it hadn’t just swallowed an entire plane.

Panic gripped your chest.

There should be people. Survivors. Anyone.

You forced yourself to stand, ignoring the way your legs trembled beneath you. Turning in desperate circles, you scanned the beach, someone has to be here. Your breath came fast, shallow. The silence is wrong, deafening. Where is everyone?

Then, movement.

A few yards down the beach, half buried in the sand, lay a figure.

Your heart stuttered. 

It’s a man. Tall, lean, his clothes damp and clinging to his body. His dark hair was messy, strands sticking to his forehead. One arm was draped over his face as if blocking out the sun. For a second, he looked too still, and a fresh wave of panic surged through you.

Then, he moved.

Your breath caught as recognition hit. Not by name, but by memory. You saw him on the plane. Maybe in the terminal, maybe in passing as you boarded. 

And now, on this deserted stretch of sand, with no one else in sight, he might be the only person in the world left with you.

The breath in your throat was shallow as you staggered toward him, legs still weak from the crash and the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. Each step felt like you were moving through a dream, one where the world was too quiet, too surreal, too broken.

You dropped to your knees beside him, reaching out hesitantly. "Hey," your voice was hoarse, throat raw from saltwater and fear. You hesitated before shaking his shoulder gently. "Are you okay?"

His eyelids fluttered, and with a small groan, he turned his face towards you. Deep brown eyes, clouded with confusion, met yours. There was something almost childlike in the way he blinked up at you, dazed and vulnerable, yet his sharp jawline and broad shoulders betrayed a quiet strength beneath it all.

His eyelids fluttered, and with a small groan, he turned his face towards you. Deep brown eyes, clouded with confusion, met yours. His gaze lingered, tracing the curve of your jaw, the salt streaked strands of your hair, the worry in your expression. A flicker of recognition passed through his features, as if he was piecing together a distant memory.

"You were on the plane," he murmured, voice rasping like he hadn’t used it in hours. He pushed himself up slowly, wincing at what was likely bruised ribs or worse. "We crashed..."

"Yeah," you whispered, swallowing past the lump in your throat. "We crashed."

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, staring at each other as the weight of it all pressed in. The vast emptiness of the island. The missing people. The unknown.

"Are you hurt?" he asked suddenly, his gaze dropping to your trembling hands.

"Just… shaken," you admitted. "You?"

"Same." He pushed his damp hair back and exhaled deeply before glancing around. "We should look for others."

You nodded, though you both knew that if there were others, you would have found them by now. Still, it gave you a purpose, something to cling to other than the gaping silence.

He braced his hands against the sand, pushing himself to his feet with a slight wince. You followed, steadying yourself as the world spun for a moment. The two of you stood there, scanning the shoreline, listening for any sound that wasn’t the rhythmic crash of waves or the whisper of the breeze through the trees.

"Maybe they washed up somewhere else," you murmured, though the words felt hollow.

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he took a slow step forward, then another, his gaze sweeping the wreckage strewn beach. His expression was unreadable, but there was a tension in his jaw, a quiet wariness in his posture.

You trailed after him, stepping carefully over debris, pieces of luggage torn open, clothing half buried in the sand, shattered plastic and twisted metal. The sight sent a chill through you. This wasn’t just wreckage; these were remnants of lives, scattered and broken.

The man crouched near a battered suitcase, running his fingers over the torn fabric before shaking his head. "Nothing useful," he muttered. He stood and turned, eyes narrowing as he spotted something farther down the beach. Without a word, he started walking.

You hurried to keep up, your breath shallow. "What is it?"

"There’s more wreckage over there," he said, gesturing ahead. "We should check."

You followed his gaze. Farther down the shoreline, tangled in seaweed and foam, were larger pieces of the plane. The sight sent a jolt of fear through you, but you pushed it down. 

The two of you picked your way through the sand, the silence stretching between you, heavy and oppressive. As you walked, you couldn’t help but glance at the man from the corner of your eye. His jaw was set, his brows furrowed in quiet determination. He moved with purpose, but there was something else, too. A weight in his steps, a hesitation in his breath.

You reached the larger wreckage, pausing just short of it. A piece lay cracked open, wires dangling like severed veins. Nearby, a broken seat jutted up from the sand, a safety pamphlet fluttering in the wind beside it.

He let out a slow breath. "If anyone else survived… they should be here."

You swallowed hard, nodding. But as you both stood there, staring at the remnants of what had once been a plane full of people, the truth pressed in with suffocating clarity.

If anyone else had survived, they would have found you by now.

The silence stretched, thick and final.

He rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling sharply. "We should keep moving."

"Yeah," you agreed, even though your chest ached. "We should."

That night, after scavenging what little supplies they could find, you and the man sat near a small fire you guys surprisingly were able to make on the beach with your combined efforts (though it took more than a few tries). 

The warmth licked at your skin, the flames casting flickering shadows against the sand. Above, the sky stretched endlessly, stars twinkling like distant beacons.

You hugged your knees to your chest, staring at the fire. "I still can’t believe this is real."

The man was quiet for a moment before exhaling softly. "Me neither."

The waves murmured in the distance, a constant rhythm against the shore. You glanced at him, watching the way the firelight flickered against his sharp features. He was staring at the sky now, his expression unreadable.

After a beat, you spoke again. "I guess… since we might be stuck together for a while, we should probably know each other’s names."

He turned to look at you, surprised, as if he hadn’t even realized you hadn’t exchanged names yet. Then, after a pause, he offered a small nod. "Jake."

You gave a faint smile, offering yours in return.

Jake repeated it under his breath, as if testing how it felt on his tongue. Then, hesitantly, he extended a hand toward you. You took it, his grip warm despite the chill of the night air.

For a moment, neither of you let go.

Then he cleared his throat, pulling his hand back and rubbing the back of his neck. "So… what did you do? Before all this?"

You exhaled a soft laugh, shaking your head. "Feels like another life, doesn’t it?"

He nodded, waiting.

"I was—" You hesitated before sighing. "Just figuring things out, I guess. Trying to start over. The flight was supposed to be the beginning of something new for me."

Jake studied you, something thoughtful in his expression. "Guess we both got a fresh start, huh? Just… not the way we expected."

You chuckled softly, though there was no real humor in it. "Yeah."

The two of you lapsed into silence again, listening to the waves, the crackling fire, the wind rustling through the palm trees. The weight of everything still loomed, but for the first time since the crash, you didn’t feel entirely alone.

And that, at least, was something.

The next morning, the sun rose slowly over the horizon, casting a soft, golden light across the beach. The heat of the day had yet to fully settle in, and the air was still cool with the remnants of the night’s breeze. The world felt strangely peaceful—too peaceful, given the circumstances.

You awoke first, the salty scent of the ocean and the warmth of the fire from the night before still lingering in your senses. You were lying on the sand, the waves lapping gently at the shore just a few feet away. The sand was oddly comforting beneath you, though it clung to your skin and stuck to your damp clothes, a constant reminder of the wreckage and the life you’d lost.

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows and looked over at Jake, who was still asleep, his back to you. His hair was tousled from the night, and the rise and fall of his chest was slow and steady. He was your only company, the only person you could rely on now.

A sharp pang of hunger gnawed at your stomach, reminding you that food would need to be a priority today. You hadn’t eaten anything since the crash, and while the adrenaline had kept you going last night, you knew it wouldn’t last much longer. You stretched, trying to shake off the grogginess that clung to you. The beach was quiet now, the crashing waves and the occasional squawk of a distant bird the only sounds filling the space.

Glancing back toward the wreckage, you felt the weight of reality pressing down on you. It wasn’t just survival now. You had to figure out how to stay alive for however long it would take to get rescued. The world had changed overnight. There was no going back.

The need to move, to do something, overwhelmed you. You gently nudged Jake’s shoulder, your hand lingering there for a moment before you pulled away.

"Jake," you whispered, your voice hoarse from the previous day. "Jake, wake up."

He groaned softly, shifting, before opening his eyes. They were clouded at first, the confusion of sleep still hanging in them. His gaze met yours, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. It was a strange sort of silence, one that held both the weight of the crash and the unspoken understanding that you were both stuck in this together.

"Morning," he muttered, his voice low and rough. He sat up slowly, wincing as he moved. The bruises were becoming more evident now, the purple and blue patches on his skin a testament to the violence of the crash. "How are you feeling?"

"Shaky," you admitted, glancing down at your own hands, which still trembled slightly. "Hungry."

"Yeah, me too." He rubbed his eyes, pushing himself up to sit cross legged on the sand. "We need to find food, and we need to figure out what to do next."

You nodded, the weight of his words sinking in. You hadn’t really thought about what to do next. The reality of survival had set in late last night, and now it was all too clear: food, shelter, water. You both needed all of those things.

"We should search for fresh water first," you suggested, your voice more steady than it had been the night before. "And maybe try to salvage anything from the wreckage."

Jake looked toward the crash site, his expression distant. "We can’t do much more with the wreckage, but I agree. Water’s the first priority."

You both stood up, your legs shaky at first, but you forced yourself to move. Every step felt surreal, as if the island and its surroundings weren’t really real. The sand beneath your feet, the palm trees swaying above you, the wreckage scattered across the shore—it all seemed too impossible to be happening in the moment.

Jake moved ahead of you, his posture tense, his eyes scanning the area as he walked. You followed close behind, keeping your gaze fixed on the ocean, the cliffs in the distance, the wreckage ahead. It all felt so vast and empty. How could anyone possibly find you out here?

As you reached the edge of the wreckage, Jake paused and knelt beside a large chunk of debris, an abandoned seat. It was broken and twisted, but the seatbelt still worked. He carefully removed the seatbelt and tied it into a crude strap. "We could use this to carry things," he said, his voice a little more focused now, the practical nature of the situation slowly sinking in.

You nodded, though the thought of turning the crash site into a resource felt almost too grim. "I’ll keep an eye out for anything else useful."

You both spent the next few hours scavenging the beach. It was slow work, the wreckage still fresh and the pieces scattered across the sand like a puzzle you couldn’t quite solve. Among the broken bits of luggage and metal, you found a few things that could be helpful: a few water bottles, some torn clothing that could be used for bandages or makeshift shelter, a few survival items from the emergency kit—flashlights, a flare gun, a few small packets of food. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give you a glimmer of hope.

By midday, the sun was beating down, and the heat of the day began to press against you both. You found a small inlet of water, a stream trickling down from the cliffs into a rocky basin. It wasn’t the best water, but you figured out how to boil it carefully over a small fire you managed to start. It tasted earthy, but it was enough to keep you going.

"You think we’ll be found?" you asked Jake, as you both sat down near the fire, the warmth of it chasing away the chill from your skin.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stared out at the ocean, his expression unreadable. "I don’t know," his voice distant. "I want to believe we will be. But… we can’t sit around waiting. We need to survive until then."

You both fell silent again, the weight of his words settling between you. As the day stretched on, it became clear that survival wasn’t just about finding food and water, it was about holding on to the hope that, no matter how impossible it felt, you would both make it out of this somehow.

That night, you and Jake sat by the fire again, your backs against the sand. The stars were even brighter tonight, the world feeling both vast and suffocating at the same time. You didn’t know how long it would be before someone found you, but as the warmth of the fire surrounded you, and the company of Jake was the only thing that kept you grounded, you held onto the quiet belief that you would somehow survive this. Together.

-------------------------

The next evening, you and Jake were working on a shelter together using bits and pieces you’ve found together on the island. As the shelter began to take shape, you and Jake were working side by side, securing palm fronds and using what little you could salvage from the wreckage. You were both silent for a while, concentrating on the task at hand, but then, curiosity nudged at you again.

“So,” you started casually, testing the waters. “What were you doing before... all this?” You gestured vaguely at the wreckage and the island. “You know, before we were stranded on this beach.”

Jake hesitated for a moment, clearly thinking. He wasn’t the type to talk about himself much, but you were determined to get to know him better. After a moment, he spoke. "I was in college," he said, his voice steady, but there was a little bit of something in his tone that made you raise an eyebrow.

You paused, mid motion, looking up at him in surprise. "College?" you repeated.

Jake gave a sheepish smile. "Yeah.. In fact, I’m actually still a student. Just... didn’t really seem that important to mention."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, you’re younger than me?" You couldn’t help the playful teasing tone that slipped into your voice. "You look older than you are."

Jake laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I get that a lot. I guess I’ve always looked older than my age."

You smirked, clearly amused. "I feel kind of bad now, assuming you were older. You seem... I don’t know, not like the typical college student. You’re really focused and, like, putting this thing together with me like it’s a class project."

He laughed again, clearly not expecting that. "I guess I am kind of focused. I’ve always been really into my studies. I don’t really know how to stop once I start."

"So you were a total overachiever back in school? Like the kind of person who aced every test and got perfect grades in every class?"

Jake gave you a little shrug, though there was a glint in his eye. "Maybe not perfect grades, but yeah, I worked hard. I played soccer too, so I had to balance that with schoolwork."

You blinked, surprised by that little tidbit. "Wait, soccer? That’s... impressive." You looked him over, suddenly noticing the athletic build he had beneath the casual, damp clothes. "I should’ve known, actually. You’ve got that athletic vibe about you."

He chuckled at the way you were eyeing him. "Yeah, I was on the team for a while. It was a good balance to all the studying, you know? Soccer was the one thing that helped me unwind."

You raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "That’s way more balanced than I expected. I figured you’d be the type to sit in the library all day, studying nonstop. But you were out there on the field too, huh?"

He just shrugged, his smile a little more bashful now. "I mean, I’d study a lot, but soccer was definitely my escape. I loved it."

"You know, I never would’ve guessed. You just don’t seem like the type who’d play sports."

He looked at you, slightly confused. "What type did you think I was, then?"

You grinned mischievously. "I don't know... maybe the quiet, bookish type who just liked to sit and read all day. You definitely don’t strike me as a soccer guy."

Jake gave you an exaggerated roll of his eyes. "Gee, thanks," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm but clearly amused. "I didn’t think I was that predictable."

His smile softened, his gaze flickering to the shelter you’d nearly finished building together. "And you... you’re a lot more fun than I expected.”

You tilted your head, curious. "What do you mean by that?"

Jake chuckled softly, rubbing his hand over his face in slight embarrassment. "I don’t know. You just... seem like you’ve got a lot of energy, even in a situation like this. It’s kind of hard to keep up with you sometimes."

You snorted, unable to stop the laughter that bubbled up. "Oh, come on, you’re making me sound like a total handful."

Jake grinned, clearly teasing. "Well, you kind of are, but in the best way possible."

"I’ll take that as a compliment."

He shook his head with a soft laugh, clearly enjoying the banter. "I guess you’re a lot more fun than I thought.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence again, but this time it felt different. The barrier between you had lessened, and there was an easy camaraderie now, built on shared effort and the surprise of learning new things about each other.

"You know," you said after a beat, "I’m kind of glad you’re here. Even though we’re stuck in this crazy situation, it’s good to have someone who’s... not totally awful to be around."

Jake gave you an exaggerated look of mock offense. "I’m not totally awful? I thought I was doing pretty well, considering."

You raised an eyebrow. "Okay, okay, you're not totally awful. But we both know I’m way more fun than you."

Jake laughed, shaking his head. "I’m not so sure about that, but I’ll let you believe it."

With that, you both continued to work, the evening sky darkening and the fire crackling beside you, feeling for the first time in days like maybe, just maybe, everything would be alright.

-------------------------

A few weeks had passed on the island. By now, the strange tension of being stranded had started to ease into a strange, peaceful rhythm. The awkwardness that once existed between you and Jake had long disappeared, replaced by an effortless camaraderie. You two had settled into a routine: scouting for any signs of people, keeping an eye on the horizon for ships or planes, maintaining the fire, and collecting rainwater in makeshift containers. Your SOS signs were bigger now, more visible, scattered across the beach in a pattern that seemed impossible to miss. You’d even found ways to wash clothes and make the shelter more livable, the island slowly transforming from a place of fear into one of quiet survival.

You two spent your days working, laughing, and even making small talk, finding solace in the little things. The tropical island, though harsh and unpredictable at times, offered a sense of beauty that kept both of you grounded. The swaying palm trees, the endless ocean, and the colorful sunsets became the backdrop of your days. Despite the situation, you’d somehow made the best of it, and Jake couldn’t help but marvel at how easy it was to be around you.

But what he hadn’t expected was how much he’d come to like spending time with you. When he first woke up on the island, his mind was foggy, disoriented, his body aching from the crash. And when his eyes had opened, the first thing he’d seen was you—a stranger, a beautiful girl who somehow felt like a mystery, someone who had quickly become his entire world. You were smart, witty, and had a way of making even the most mundane tasks feel light and almost enjoyable. He remembered how your laughter filled the air, how you could turn any situation into something to smile about, and how you never seemed to let the hopelessness of the situation get to you.

There was a part of him, deep down, that had wondered if this was real, if he was truly stuck on an island with you, or if his mind had conjured up this perfect version of a person to get him through the days. But the reality was that you were real, and you were there, right beside him, helping him get through this as much as he was helping you.

Jake found himself growing more comfortable around you as time went on, and while there was no longer that barrier between you two, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being a little out of place. Sometimes, when you’d laugh at something he said or flip your hair in that casual way you always did, he’d catch himself staring for a moment longer than he should. He was drawn to you, to the way your eyes sparkled when you spoke, and the way you seemed to carry the weight of the world with such grace, as if the island didn’t faze you in the slightest.

But it was more than just your outward beauty, it was your sharp mind and your confidence that made him feel a little... small. He’d noticed how you treated him, and though you didn’t say anything to make him feel this way, he could sense it. He thought you acted as though he was your younger brother, the one who followed your lead, not as an equal, not in the way he wanted. It made him feel uneasy at times, as though he wasn’t really seen the way he wanted to be.

Jake couldn’t help but wonder, in the quiet moments when you weren’t looking, if you had started to look down on him. He knew you didn’t mean to, he just felt it sometimes, especially when he’d catch you giving him a knowing smile after a particularly good idea of yours. It made him question whether you saw him as someone worth more than just another island companion.

Still, despite the unease that would creep in now and then, there was something about being with you that made everything else feel bearable. Every laugh, every conversation, even every moment of quiet as you two worked in sync, it was comforting. And, oddly, it gave him something to look forward to each day.

Jake wanted to know more about you. He wanted to know where you came from, what made you laugh so freely, what made you look up at the stars with a faraway look in your eyes. He wanted to understand the real you, the person behind the quick wit and the beautiful smile.

There was an undeniable pull between the two of you, something unspoken yet so present in the air. But Jake didn’t know how to navigate it. Should he make a move? Would that make things awkward between you two, or worse, make you uncomfortable? You had become his constant, the person he leaned on when the days felt too long and the nights too quiet. The thought of you not being there, of leaving the island and not being part of your life, felt too heavy to even think about.

But then, in the same breath, the question loomed over him: Would we even make it off this island? Would you guys ever see the shore of the mainland again? The idea that you might not be part of his future terrified him, even though he had no idea where that future would take him.

But one thing he was sure of: If you did make it off the island, if you both somehow found your way back to safety, he wanted to be part of your life. He wanted to show you that he wasn’t just the quiet guy who worked hard but that he was someone who could be there for you, no matter what. Even if he didn’t make a move now, he would make sure you knew just how much he cared.

In the meantime, Jake kept his eyes on you, from time to time, but he never said anything. Not yet. But he wasn’t sure how long he could hold onto that distance between you two. He just hoped that when the time came, you'd see him differently, the way he saw you.

-------------------------

Later, one random day, the sun was hanging low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the beach as you and Jake lounged near the shoreline. It was one of those rare moments where the island felt almost normal, as if you were just two people enjoying a lazy afternoon vacation by the sea. The soft, rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the shore filled the air, but other than that, there was nothing but the occasional call of a bird in the distance.

You two hadn’t done much today, just passing the time with a few small tasks and some light conversation. But now, as the heat of the day started to ease, you both found yourselves bored out of your minds. You had already gone over the wreckage and scavenged for supplies earlier, and there was only so much you could do to keep busy.

Without much thought, you stood up from where you were sitting, stretching your arms above your head. You glanced at Jake, who was lying with his hands behind his head, eyes closed, enjoying the peace of the moment. A playful thought bubbled up in your mind, a spontaneous idea born out of sheer boredom.

"Jake," you called out, a grin spreading across your face. "Come on. Let’s go for a swim!"

His eyes fluttered open, and he turned his head toward you, a look of surprise flashing across his face. "Huh?" he asked, his voice laced with confusion.

You, however, weren’t waiting for him to get his bearings. In a burst of energy, you started pulling off your shirt, then your pants, revealing your underwear beneath. The fabric hit the sand as you stood there, completely unfazed by the way the breeze made the air feel cooler against your skin.

You didn’t give him a chance to protest or even respond, already moving toward the water, laughing as you felt the cool waves rush up to meet you. "Come on, Jake!" you yelled over your shoulder. "Don’t be a wimp, the water’s perfect!"

Jake stayed still for a moment, staring at you, his expression caught between shock and awe. His eyes lingered a little too long on your body, and you could see him freeze up for a split second, before his gaze snapped back to your face. You couldn’t help but smirk at the way his expression shifted. He was clearly caught off guard, trying to process what was happening.

For a heartbeat, it looked like he was about to stay behind, still trying to wrap his head around the situation. But then, as if he couldn’t resist the pull of the water and the challenge in your voice, he pushed himself up from the sand, pulling his once loose shirt over his head. You heard his footsteps behind you as he caught up, and soon the two of you were wading into the cool water together.

As you splashed around, laughing and feeling the waves tug at your legs, you began to notice Jake in a way that was a little more... focused than before. Sure, you had always found him attractive, his broad shoulders, his strong arms, his easy smile. But now that you were both in the water, there was something different about the way the sunlight hit him.

His chest gleamed in the sun, water droplets clinging to his skin like tiny diamonds. Every movement he made caused his abs to ripple slightly beneath the surface, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles shifted with ease, the strength in his frame undeniable. His broad shoulders loomed over you as he moved, his tall height making him seem even more imposing in the water. And when he reached out, grabbing onto you in the playful way he always did, you felt his powerful arms engulf you, his grip gentle but strong.

For a moment, you stopped, caught in the middle of a wave. Your breath slowed as you took him in—really looked at him. The way his dark hair clung to his forehead, the way the water ran down his body, the way he towered over you, even now. There was something so magnetic about him in this moment. You hadn’t really noticed just how much you admired the way he moved, the strength he exuded without even trying.

"Is something wrong?" Jake’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you blinked, realizing you had stopped moving entirely. He was looking at you with a smirk, a playful glint in his eyes. "What is it? You staring at me now?"

Caught completely off guard, you realized you had been staring for longer than was probably appropriate. But instead of feeling embarrassed, you felt something else. Something bold. Something you couldn’t quite ignore. You couldn’t just look at him anymore. You had to do something about it.

With a sudden burst of courage, you took a step forward, closing the space between the two of you. He didn’t have time to react before you cupped his face in your hands and pulled him down toward you, pressing your lips against his. It was a quick, decisive kiss, but it was full of everything you had been holding back, the attraction, the tension, the way you wanted more from him, from this moment.

Jake froze for a split second, surprised by the sudden shift, but then he relaxed into it, his hands moving instinctively to your waist, pulling you closer. He kissed you back, his lips warm and soft, and everything else seemed to disappear; the sound of the waves, the heat of the sun, even the worry that always lingered at the back of your mind. It was just the two of you in that moment, surrounded by the island that had become your world.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, you smiled up at him. "What are you waiting for?" you teased softly, brushing a wet strand of hair out of your face. "You gonna just stand there, or are you gonna kiss me again?"

Jake laughed, a deep, genuine sound that made you feel lighthearted despite everything else. His hand gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb grazing the skin of your jaw as his gaze softened.

"Guess I’ll have to," he said, his voice low and steady. "Since you asked so nicely."

And before you could even react, he leaned in again, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was even deeper this time, as if he was making up for the moment of hesitation. This time, you didn’t hold back either. You kissed him like you meant it, like you wanted him to know how much you had been holding onto that feeling. It felt right, like everything in the world had lined up to bring you to this moment.

And maybe, just maybe, you weren’t quite so alone anymore.

-------------------------

That evening, you two had settled over the island, and the fading sunlight gave everything a golden, almost magical glow. The air had cooled just enough to make the day feel like it was coming to an end, but the warmth of the sun still lingered on your skin. You and Jake had spent the afternoon on the beach, your energy drained from playing in the water and basking in the heat. Now, you were lounging on a patch of sand, taking a break and munching on some safe fruit to eat, including cherries you both had discovered and gathered on the island earlier.

You were still in your underwear, the fabric drying on your skin after your impromptu swim. Jake, similarly shirtless, sat a few feet away from you, his gaze more focused on you than the scenery.

With each bite of the fruit, you let the juice drip down your chin, savoring the sweet taste of it, making sure to fully enjoy it. As you popped each piece into your mouth, the remnants of the juice clung to your fingers, and you licked each one clean with exaggerated slowness. The sound of your finger sucking echoed slightly in the quiet air. You weren’t doing it on purpose, but the way your tongue worked over your fingers seemed to be the only thing he could focus on, the fruit’s sweetness lingering on your lips.

It seemed you were unaware that Jake had been staring at you for the past ten minutes, his eyes fixated on the way you ate, in complete awe. It wasn’t the fruit that kept him mesmerized, it was the way you moved. The way your lips parted as you took the fruit, the delicate, almost sensual way you sucked off each finger clean, completely unaware of the effect it was having on him. The sound, soft and almost seductive, lingered in the back of his mind, and it stirred something inside him he wasn’t prepared for.

He tried to look away a few times, but his gaze always found its way back to you. Every movement you made, every little detail, your fingers, your lips, the way you casually tossed the fruit pit aside. It was like a magnet drawing him in deeper. He could feel his heart beat faster, his body responding in ways he didn’t fully understand, not when you were sitting there so casually, so innocently. The way the area around the crotch of his shorts grew just a little tighter, and how his breathing became more ragged and slowed. It made him feel conflicted, unsure if he should look away or allow himself to enjoy the view a little longer.

But what Jake didn’t know was that you weren’t oblivious. You could feel the weight of his gaze, the way his eyes were fixed on you, and you couldn’t help but feel a small spark of awareness. You had noticed it earlier but chose to ignore it, trying to convince yourself it was just his usual quietness. But now, with the lingering tension between you, it was undeniable. He was watching you, and in a way, it made you feel both empowered and strangely nervous.

Your gaze shifted sideways toward him, catching his eye for a brief moment before he quickly looked away, as if he hadn’t been staring at you for the past several minutes. You smirked, licking your last finger clean, enjoying the power that came with his unease. You weren’t sure where the feeling was coming from, but something inside you enjoyed the effect you were having on him.

"Something on your mind, Jakey?" you asked, your voice teasing but light. There was a playful edge to your words, as if you were testing the waters, trying to see if he would admit to it.

He cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at you. "Uh, no. Just… enjoying the view," he muttered, his voice betraying him as a flush crept up his neck.

You chuckled softly, running your fingers through your hair in a casual, yet purposeful motion, letting the strands fall effortlessly around your shoulders. "I see," you said with a grin, not hiding the fact that you were enjoying his reaction. "Glad you’re getting some use out of those eyes of yours."

Jake shifted uncomfortably, the heat in his cheeks making him feel like he was caught in a trap. But the moment passed quickly as you casually laid back, propping your head up on your arm and looking at the sky. Yet, you could feel Jake’s presence beside you, still lingering. His eyes might have moved away, but you knew exactly what was going through his head. And it made you feel alive in a way that surprised you.

Your playful smile didn’t falter as you picked up another cherry, bringing it slowly to your lips, letting it roll around your fingers as you took another bite.

You glanced over at him, teasing with a slight tilt of your head. “Want one, Jake?” you asked, your voice light and airy, but there was a definite hint of challenge in it this time.

Jake, clearly thrown off, didn’t even try to hide the way his eyes were locked on you. His gaze was hungry, not for the fruit, but for you. He swallowed hard, his breath catching as his eyes stayed on you, taking in each little movement you made. When you swirled your tongue around the fruit and sucked it off your finger with a soft moan, it was as if time itself slowed down. You felt his stare on you, making your pulse race, and you couldn’t deny the effect it was having on both of you. “It’s sooo sweet.” 

He licked his lips nervously, almost unsure of how to respond, and his voice trembled when he spoke. “No, I’m… I’m good,” he gulped. His eyes, though, never left you.

You could see the way his words didn’t match his actions. You could see that his mind was somewhere far from the fruit, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, your heart racing a little faster as you watched him fidget in place.

“Good, because it was the last one anyway,” you playfully teased.

“Right…” he mumbled, still not really paying attention, his thoughts clearly drifting elsewhere, his focus solely on you.

You let the moment hang there, letting Jake stew in his own nervousness for a second. But it was your turn now, and you couldn’t resist leaning into the tension. With a teasing smirk, you tossed the cherry pit aside and pushed yourself up, closing the distance between the two of you.

You looked him in the eye, reading his expression, and in that instant, it was like everything else faded away. The island, the heat, the isolation, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the way he was looking at you, the way you were looking at him, and the way you both seemed to be caught in this moment.

“It’s okay,” you said softly, but your voice was filled with that same playful edge. “You can still have a taste…”

Before he could even process your words, you leaned in, tilting your head slightly, and kissed him.

At first, Jake froze, completely caught off guard, his body stiffening as your lips met his. But that hesitation didn’t last long. Something inside him snapped, and his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as he kissed you back with a fierce intensity. The kiss was nothing like the one before. It was more intense, raw, and driven by a deeper sense of desire and urgency.

You pulled away just enough to catch your breath, your lips still tingling from the touch. Jake’s eyes were wide, but there was a softness in them now, like the nervous energy had melted away, replaced with something more genuine, more vulnerable. He seemed to be searching your face, trying to figure out if this was real or if he was just imagining it.

You grinned, your heart racing as you slid your hand to his chest, feeling the heat of his skin. “You wanted a taste, didn’t you?” you teased, your voice low and playful.

Jake swallowed again, still breathless from the kiss, and nodded slowly. “Yeah… I did.”

You hummed. “There’s still more of me to taste.”

And that was all it took for Jake’s sanity to crumble, smashing his lips onto yours once again. Surprisingly, he was the first to slip his tongue into your mouth, very much enjoying the sweet and raw taste of the cherries mixed with your combined saliva.

He groaned against your lips, roaming his hands all over your body, trying to feel all of you. His grip was so firm, it felt as though he was afraid the tide might pull you from his hold. 

But up until now, you were getting too worked up, craving more, craving to feel him without any barriers between you. It had also been a while since you’d had any kind of romantic interaction with a boy, and now, with Jake’s hands roaming all over your body and his lips leaving trails of heat against your skin, you felt like you were rediscovering something you hadn’t even realized you missed.

You straddled him partially, your bodies tangled in a slow, heated makeout session. Your hands trailed down his arms, guiding them to where you wanted them, pressing them firmly against you as if daring him to hold on tighter. You led them down to your mostly bare ass, as your lips and tongues moved in sync. Jake let out a shaky breath against your mouth, his hands now resting on the curves of your cheeks, fingers pressing into your skin as if memorizing the way you felt beneath them.

“You can touch me, you know,” you teased between kisses, your voice sultry yet playful.

Jake chuckled softly, though his grip tightened instinctively. “Trust me,” he murmured, his lips grazing your jaw, “I’m trying to keep myself together here.”

You smirked, tilting his chin up so your eyes met. “Then don’t.”

Jake was starting to feel a little nervous now. He wasn’t sure if it was obvious, but deep down, he knew he wasn’t as experienced as he sometimes let on. Sure, he had been with a few girls before, but his focus had mostly always been on his studies back in school. He wasn’t the type to chase fleeting romances or get caught up in distractions. And now, here he was, caught in this moment with you. Someone older, someone who carried a type of confidence that made him feel both drawn in and a little out of his depth.

The thought made his grip on you tighten slightly, his heart pounding as he tried to keep up with your pace. He didn’t want to overthink it, but his nerves were creeping in, and for the first time in a long while, Jake felt out of his element.

Still, despite his unease, one thing was certain—-he wanted this. He wanted you. And if anything, he wanted to learn you, to understand what made you tick, what made you feel good, and what would make you look at him not just as a boy stranded on an island with you, but as a man worth being close to.

Instead of hesitating, Jake took a deep breath and steadied himself. He wasn’t about to let his nerves ruin this moment. If anything, he wanted to prove to himself and to you, that he could meet you where you were, that he wasn’t just some younger guy fumbling his way through this.

So instead of backing down, he leaned in, his grip on you growing firmer as he took control of the moment. His hands, once hesitant, now moved with purpose, tracing slow, deliberate paths along the sides of your thighs as he pulled you closer. His lips met yours again, this time with a newfound confidence, deeper and more sure.

If he was going to do this, he was going to do it right.

But you on the other hand, were growing impatient, as you undid the clasps of your bra with a practiced ease, not breaking the heated kiss between you and Jake. Then, you found his hands once again, leading them up your sides, all the way to your now unclothed breasts, encouraging him to touch you the way you wanted. Jake swallowed hard, his breath unsteady as he looked up at you. His fingers hesitated for only a moment before they settled against your chest, warm and firm. 

He experimentally pinched your right nipple, eliciting a short whimper from you. You urged him to do it again, gazing down at him with a sultry, knowing look. So this time, he brought both of his hands up, pinching both nipples at the same time, and enjoying how his slightest touch sent such a raw, immediate reaction through you. You gripped his shoulders to balance yourself out of desperation, while he played with your tits, pinching and grabbing at them like he basically owned them. 

Your whines were growing louder the more he fondled and touched you, sensing your panties growing damper with every passing moment. But then finally, he latched his lips onto your flesh with no warning, causing you to throw your head back in sheer pleasure. “Fuck!” you whined shamelessly. 

Your words only fueled his desire, as he timely shifted from your left to your right boobs, as if he were devouring both with the hunger of a starved man. The sensation you felt from his teeth grazing your skin, nibbling and sucking, leaving behind purple marks as a sign of possession. It sent you into a frenzy, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity.

It was then that you were now beginning to feel his clothed dick growing, from where you were sitting on him, momentarily realizing for a brief second, that he was much larger than you had expected. 

Too turned on to even think properly, you began to bounce yourself slowly on his lap, grinding against what you wanted so badly. This caused him to groan against your chest as his brows furrowed in ecstasy, finally being able to feel some relief in his pants, where you were basically dry humping him at this point.

But it wasn’t enough. 

“Jakeee,” you cried, incessantly tugging at his hair, forcing him to look up at you. He panted softly as you both locked eyes, his lips glistening, coated with a sheen of saliva. The look you gave him was intense, filled with desire and unspoken promise. Your eyes were half lidded, your lips parted slightly as you took in the moment, your expression a perfect mix of vulnerability and challenge. It was as though you were daring him, inviting him to follow the unspoken invitation in your gaze. You didn’t need to say a word, he understood everything in that single, charged moment.

Jake then shifted his position, carefully guiding you so that you were lying on your back with him leaning over you. His body hovered just above yours, the intensity of his presence grounding you in the moment. You both paused, breathing heavily as the energy between you lingered. His eyes were still locked onto yours, before his lips found yours again in a desperate kiss. The air was filled with an undeniable connection, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away.

As you two kissed, Jake managed to start pulling the hem of his shorts lower and lower until his large cock finally sprang free from the constraints of his pants, revealing his v-line. It slapped against his abdomen impatiently, coating his skin with precum. 

You broke away from the kiss curiously, wanting to finally see it. And boy, were you far from disappointed. 

"Oh my," you gasped, your eyes widening in awe as you glanced down at the space between the two of you. Jake couldn't help but chuckle softly, his gaze filled with admiration for how cute you looked in the moment. 

He smirked playfully. “What? Don’t think you’ll be able to take it?” Without hesitation, you shook your head, showing him with certainty that you were ready. He chuckled again, shaking his head. "I'm just messing with you," he said, a playful grin tugging at his lips.

As he took his length in his hand, pumping it a few times, you eagerly slid your panties off, anticipation building with every moment. 

This was it. You were going to have sex with him.

You never expected the boy you found lying on the shore, looking so lost and helpless, to be the one you'd end up sharing such a deep, intimate moment with. He had been a stranger, someone you thought you might never see again, yet here he was. His presence was overwhelming in a way you never anticipated. The shift from survival partners to something more had been unexpected, yet somehow felt like it had always been meant to be. 

As you snapped out of your thoughts, you noticed Jake was quietly waiting, patiently giving you the space to make the next move, his expression soft but expectant. His posture was relaxed, but you could see the subtle tension in his body, waiting for your cue. It was clear that he was just as invested in the moment as you were, yet respecting your pace. The silence between you both felt like it held so much potential, and you realized that this connection was more than just physical. It was something deeper, a shared understanding that went beyond words.

You nodded at him, signaling that you were ready. And in no time, Jake was slowly shoving his length in between your legs. However, it didn’t matter how slow or gentle his movements were—it still hurt. Really badly. 

“You okay?” he asked, though his tone was everything but comforting. You could tell he was losing his composure. It sounded so desperate and willing, while his eyes were sewn shut, jaw clenching. He wanted to ram into you so, so bad. But honestly, who could blame him? He was a man. A very kind and respectful one, but still, a man. And every man has their own needs and desires. 

At first, the idea of being stranded on a deserted island with a random stranger in the middle of nowhere seemed like your worst nightmare—or any girl's, really. But as you got to know the lost boy, whose shy, almost teenage like personality made him seem harmless, you started to think, well, it could be worse. And it's ironic to think that, for many men, Jake's situation might actually feel like a dream, stranded on an island with a beautiful young woman and no escape. 

But the surprising part was that Jake never made a move on you until you kissed him. Despite being stranded in such a close, intimate situation, Jake tried to restrain himself. Even though his feelings were clearly there, he was a shy boy at heart, and that made him hold back, even when the situation practically begged for it. Plus, he finally didn’t need to secretly jerk off when you weren’t there anymore. He no longer had to pretend he wasn’t blatantly staring at you or try to suppress the dirty thoughts that inevitably crossed his mind whenever you were near. Because, now, he knew that the feeling was mutual. 

So, instead of impatiently pushing his hips into you, he reminded himself to calm down and take it slow, especially considering you were likely in some form of pain right now. 

When he finally bottomed out, he let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, stilling his dick inside of you and hoping that he wouldn’t fucking cum already. 

And after a few moments passed, your body was finally getting used to Jake’s massive size, giving him a subtle nod, letting Jake know it was okay to begin. Thank the fucking lord.

He began slowly, pulling back just a bit, and gently thrusting in. Jake felt like he was seeing stars at this point, overwhelmed by desire and ecstasy. Your pussy was too fucking good to be true. You squeezed him just right while you were still adjusting, milking his meat perfectly. He looked down at you while he carefully thrusted, maintaining eye contact. 

You were so beautiful. You were sprawled out beneath him, your hair tousled and glistening from the earlier sun, the light making it seem almost ethereal. Your lips were swollen from the previous kissing, still pink, and your eyes had that glimmer of intensity that made him feel both nervous and captivated at the same time. Your skin, glowing from the warm sun, had a soft, dewy look to it, and the way you breathed, just slightly out of rhythm, made him feel like he was looking at someone both incredibly strong and delicate. You were a beautiful mixture of vulnerability and confidence, and it made him feel like he was seeing you in a way he never thought he would. 

Losing his composure a bit, his movements began to speed up, ramming into you with more force as his mouth hung open in pure bliss, short groans escaping with each breath. Jake hasn’t had sex with many girls in his lifetime, but surely none of them even came close to you. He couldn’t help but compare this moment he was spending with you to everything he had experienced before, and nothing had ever felt this intense.

The way your body was in heat, clenching around his poor cock in desperate need to release. The way your tits bounced slightly with every thrust of his hips. The way you looked so damn good, getting fucked by him. Your presence, the way you moved, and the way you made him feel, everything about you was different. 

As the moments passed, the sounds between you both grew louder. Soft whines and gentle groans slipped from both of your lips, almost in sync, creating a rhythm that felt intimate. 

“Fuck,” he said raspily, his voice hoarse from exhaustion. “I…I think I’m close.”

"Me too," you murmured softly, your voice contrasting with Jake’s. He leaned in, foreheads gently pressing together before his lips met yours once more. This time, it was messier and nastier with a hint of urgency. Saliva was dripping down both of your chins, as you both moaned into each other’s mouths with no care in the world. 

Jake’s pace was getting relentless by now, thrusting forcefully into you like a madman. The sounds of skin slapping echoed and filled your ears, making you very aware. It was as if his hips had a mind of its own. He had only one goal now anyway, and that was to cum. Inside you.

And after a few more moments, his thrusts finally slowed to a stop, briefly pausing inside of you, before he was unleashing his thick, white cream into your exhausted pussy. 

The sensation it gave you was so raw and overwhelming, unlike anything you had ever experienced before. It made everything around you fade away, leaving only the intensity of the moment. Your mouth hung open in shock, your eyes squeezed shut as a gasp escaped your lips. Your body shook, overwhelmed by the intensity of the feeling. Jake finally collapsed onto you, exhausted, but also satisfied from his long needed release. You both caught your breath, feeling the effects of the post orgasmic bliss. A light laugh escaped your lips as you wiped the sweat from your brow, your body still humming from the previous pleasure. “That was something,” you said, still catching your breath. You waited for Jake to reply, but as you glanced at him, you realized he had already drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

-------------------------

The muffled sucking sounds escaping your mouth ringed in Jake’s ears like a mantra that’s been going on for the past five minutes. “Don’t stop,” he whimpered pleadingly, as he watched your head bob up and down in between his legs. 

You hummed in response, tilting your head to look up at Jake, enjoying the effect you had on him. You loved the way you had him entranced, the way his eyes darkened with desire and how his breath became ragged. His chest heaved with every breath, and his lips were slightly parted. The flush of his skin and the tension in the air showed just how much you had gotten under his skin, making him lose his usual composure. 

The squelching and slurping noises radiated off your mouth so intensely, leaving Jake’s mind too numb and too fucked out to process a single thought. He just watched you in amazement with his shoulders propped up, giving him the perfect view of his cock going in and out of your mouth. And in and out. 

Your mouth and chin was completely smothered in his precum at this point as you basically made out with his dick, taking it in all the way until you couldn’t. 

Then, a loud gasp escaped his mouth when he felt your hot and slimy tongue trail all the way down to his balls. You took one in your mouth as you massaged the other with your hand. Then you switched, alternating and sucking onto the other one. 

Jake had never had his balls sucked this good, or ever, matter of fact. His senses were being so overstimulated to the point where he could only focus on the feeling of your warm mouth, sucking him off so good. He couldn’t even process what you were saying anymore, forgetting that you said anything at all.

“Does it feel good Jakey?” you asked slyly, replacing the balls that were just in your mouth back to his dick. But all you got was just a weak moan in response, momentarily looking up to see Jake’s head thrown all the way back. 

Slightly chuckling to yourself, you returned to slobbering on his cock, picking up the pace and deepthroating it until it hit the back of your throat. You couldn’t help but gag a little, however, that just sent Jake even farther up in a haze. He pushed his hips up instinctively, making you take his dick even deeper, evoking his dick to twitch in between your lips. And it wasn’t long until he was groaning bluntly and cumming on your tongue, subconsciously thrusting up inside your mouth a few times. 

After swallowing every single drop of his fluids, you removed your mouth and began to crawl onto him, until you were hovering right above his softening cock. 

“Wh-what are you doing?” he asked in a daze, still coming off of his high.

“Shhh..” you hushed him. You slid your shorts and panties to the side and grabbed his dick harshly with your other hand. 

“W-wait! Don-” he began in panic. But it was no use, because the next thing he knew, you were slamming your hips down onto him, forcing his cock inside of you. 

You let out a sigh of pleasure, feeling his cock immediately harden back up inside your hole. The walls of your pussy began to milk it as you sat up and then back down, slowly riding him to a rhythm. 

Jake on the other hand was feeling way too overstimulated and restless. He had just orgasmed not even ten seconds ago, and here you were already shoving it back inside of you. You gave him no time to let his dick recover. 

He began to cry out frantically, “Wait! It’s still sensitive!” His arms flung out to try and stop your movements, but they just froze in the air, unsure of what to do. He noisily whined out in discomfort, but nothing. You just rode his delicate and fragile dick, ignoring his pleads to stop. 

“Come on, you can take it Jake. I know you can.”

-------------------------

The fire crackled softly, the only sound breaking the silence of the night. The air had grown colder, and you could feel the chill seeping through your clothes, making you shiver slightly. You pulled your jacket tighter around you, staring into the flames, lost in your thoughts.

Jake’s voice interrupted the quiet, breaking the calm with a soft question. “Do you ever think we could get off this island?” he asked, his tone laced with a mixture of hope and uncertainty.

You shrugged, your eyes never leaving the dancing flames. “I don’t know, but I hope we do,” you said, trying to push away the lingering doubts that always crept in when you let yourself think too much about the future.

Jake shifted beside you, his voice more hesitant this time. “But what will happen to us?” he asked, his gaze turned toward the sky, like he was trying to find an answer in the stars.

You furrowed your brow, confused by the question. “What do you mean?”

He paused, as if gathering his thoughts, then his eyes met yours. “I like you a lot,” he admitted, his voice low. “But what if we go back to our normal lives and I never see you again?”

You were quiet for a moment, processing his words. The thought of parting ways with him was something you hadn’t allowed yourself to truly consider. But now that he mentioned it, it felt a little too real.

“Well, that’s not gonna happen,” you said, your voice firm, though you didn’t know for sure. “But even if it did... we’d have to move on. Life moves forward, you know?”

Jake looked at you, uncertainty still lingering in his eyes. “Yeah,” he said softly, a sigh escaping him. “I guess you’re right.”

The quiet settled between you for a moment, both of you lost in your own thoughts. Then, Jake spoke up again, his curiosity piqued. “So, why were you even on the plane?” he asked, his voice light but inquisitive. “What brought you out here?”

You took a deep breath, staring at the flames for a second before answering. “I was moving,” you said slowly. “I had a bad breakup with an ex of mine, and it kind of sent me into a spiral. I got pretty bitter about relationships after that. I ended up losing a lot of friends, and things weren’t great with my family, either... until recently.” You didn’t want to go into too much detail, but it felt good to say it out loud, even if it was just to Jake.

Jake nodded, listening quietly as you spoke. He didn’t interrupt, giving you space to share. “What about you?” you asked, curious now.

He chuckled softly, scratching the back of his neck. “I was visiting my brother,” he said. “He lives in another city, and I was going to spend a few weeks with him. Things were kind of... complicated with my family too, but it felt like the right time to reconnect.”

You could hear the hint of hesitation in his voice, but you didn’t press him for more. Instead, you both sat in the silence for a moment, letting the crackling fire fill the space between you.

It felt odd, talking like this. In a way, you hadn’t really expected to open up so much, not in this place, and certainly not with someone you had just met under these bizarre circumstances. But it was easy with Jake, easier than you’d ever imagined.

“So, what now?” you asked, breaking the quiet. “Do we just keep going, day by day, hoping for a miracle?”

Jake looked at you, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I don’t know... maybe. But I think, for right now, we’re okay. We’re still here. And I think we’re gonna make it out of this.”

Just as he finished speaking, almost on cue, the sound of a plane flying overhead broke the stillness of the moment. Your heart skipped a beat, and without thinking, you bolted upright. “Oh shit!” you shouted, panic rising in your chest. You quickly started flailing your arms, yelling at the top of your lungs, trying to get their attention. Your mind raced as the plane seemed to be soaring higher, farther away, like it was already losing its connection to the island.

Jake was right behind you, his footsteps pounding in the sand as he followed your frantic movements.

“Jake! Get the flare!” you screamed, your voice cracking with urgency. The plane was almost out of sight now, and you felt a sinking feeling in your stomach. Every second counted. "Hurry!"

He sprinted off toward the spot where you’d left the flare, his eyes wide with realization. You could hear the beat of your heart in your ears, each moment slipping by faster than the last.

Finally, Jake came back into view, flare in hand, and you watched as he aimed it at the sky, his expression tense. As the bright light shot into the air, a wave of frustration hit you. The plane was already too far gone. 

The flare fell back to the ground, its glow dimming, and you stood there, breathless, feeling the weight of the moment. Jake’s face mirrored your own, a mix of disappointment and disbelief.

“We... we almost had them,” he muttered under his breath, but there was no use in saying it now. 

“There’s no way they saw us or our SOS sign,” you said, your voice low and heavy with frustration. “Especially not at night when it’s so dark.”

Jake nodded, his face tense with the same realization you were grappling with. He let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping as the weight of the failed attempt hit him.

“I know,” he replied quietly, still staring into the dark sky. 

You glanced at the flare on the ground, its brief burst of light already fading into the night. It seemed like everything was slipping away, no matter how hard you fought.

“Well, at least we know,” you muttered, trying to hold onto a sliver of hope. “There’s still a chance.”

Jake’s eyes darkened with a mix of frustration and hope as he looked up at the sky again. “Yeah, maybe someone noticed the flare,” he said, his voice more hopeful this time. “They might be calling for help. We should keep an eye out for any more passing planes in the next few days.”

You nodded, your heart beating faster as a tiny spark of hope flickered. It wasn’t much, but it was something. The thought that someone might have seen that brief flash of light and was coming to help was enough to keep you going for now.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you agreed, looking out over the horizon. “We can’t give up now. We’ll be ready if another plane comes by.”

-------------------------

You and Jake lay back in the sun, enjoying the warmth as you fed each other pieces of fruit. The conversation drifted from light-hearted plans to deeper thoughts about the future.

“You know,” Jake said between bites, “once we’re off this island, I think I’ll finally take a break. I’ve been studying so much, I forgot what it was like to just enjoy life.”

You smiled, enjoying his relaxed tone. “Yeah, I get that. Maybe we could actually take a trip somewhere. I’ve always wanted to go to Paris. Or maybe travel around Europe for a bit.”

He nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds perfect. I’d love to see the world, maybe live somewhere by the beach and just... take it easy.”

You paused, your smile faltering slightly. “Yeah, but... if we get off this island, we’d probably have to go back to our old lives, right? You know, school, work... all that stuff. I’m not really sure I’m ready for a relationship right now, after everything that happened with my ex.”

Jake looked at you for a moment, his smile slowly fading. “I mean, I’d like to go back to normal too, but… what if we never see each other again? What if this is it? Just us, here.”

You shrugged, keeping the tone light, though there was a faint ache behind your words. "I don’t know… It would be tough, but it’s inevitable.”

He sighed, his eyes shifting. “I get that, I do. But I guess I’m just... not ready for things to go back to the way they were before. I’ve had more fun here with you than I have in a while."

You smiled softly, gently running your fingers through the sand. “Yeah, I’ve had a good time too... But if we get off, it’ll be the best of both worlds, right? We can go back to living our lives, but with this whole new chapter behind us.”

Jake was quiet for a beat, and you noticed his unease. But you didn’t push him, instead keeping the conversation light and hopeful, knowing that things might change, but it would be okay either way. 

“Okay,” you said with a yawn, your body beginning to relax as the sun's warmth lulled you. “I’m going to take a nap. Wake me up in a few hours?”

Jake gave a small, affectionate smile. “Of course.”

As you drifted off, your breathing slow and steady, Jake remained by your side, sitting quietly and watching you sleep. In the soft light of the day, with the gentle sounds of the ocean and the rustling of leaves in the breeze, you looked so peaceful, so at ease, and it struck him in a way he couldn’t put into words. Your features relaxed, your body still, and your chest rising and falling with each breath, it all felt so perfect. He couldn’t help but stare, mesmerized by how beautiful you were. For a moment, it was just the two of you, the world around you fading away, and it felt like everything was right.

Jake had never thought of himself as the kind of guy to get lost in such moments. He had always been focused, driven by the constant need to do something, to achieve something. But now, sitting here beside you, feeling the warmth of your presence and the peace of the island, he realized how much he had missed out on. All those years spent locked away in his books, pushing himself toward the next goal, the next success, it felt so far removed from the quiet joy of just being here, of being with you.

What if he didn’t have to go back? What if this life—this simple, unhurried life—was what he really wanted? The thought made his chest tighten, his heart racing in ways he wasn’t used to. He had spent so long trying to fit himself into a mold, trying to be the perfect student, the perfect son, always chasing after something. But here, now, he realized it didn’t matter. With you, he was finally living, truly living, and he didn’t want to lose that.

He was pulled from his thoughts by a sudden, unmistakable sound, the roar of an engine overhead. His heart jumped in his chest, and before he even realized it, he was on his feet, looking up at the sky. Another plane. It was there. The opportunity for rescue, for freedom, was right in front of him. His hands trembled as he ran back to retrieve the flare, instinctively preparing to signal.

But as he stood there, flare in hand, something stopped him. The adrenaline coursing through him mixed with doubt, and the weight of everything he had been thinking in the moments before seemed to settle into his bones. The thought of being saved, of leaving this island, of leaving you, hit him like a wave. What would happen to you two after that? Would he just go back to his old life, to the endless cycle of studying and striving, or would he somehow find a way to hold onto what he had with you?

For a moment, he imagined the plane flying off into the distance, taking with it everything he had found here. The certainty of what lay beyond the island seemed so distant, so unappealing now, compared to the quiet connection they shared in this place.

With a quiet breath, he let the flare drop from his hands and turned, walking back toward you as you slept. And there, with his back to the plane, he sat beside you, the weight of his decision settling over him like the sun. He sat down beside you, carefully keeping his movements quiet to not disturb your peaceful slumber. The rays were warm on his skin, and the gentle sway of the breeze seemed to echo his own quiet thoughts. Maybe, just maybe, he'd found something more important than escaping the island.

And as he sat there, his gaze drifting over your sleeping form, he realized that for the first time, he wasn’t thinking about the future, about what he would go back to. He was thinking about the present, about this moment, and that was enough.

[edenesth]

TWTHH Spinoff: Stitched Hearts [Teaser]

Pairing: dressmaker!Hongjoong x noblewoman!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Summary: Throughout his entire career, Hongjoong has received nothing but praise for his work. Never once had anyone suggested his dresses were anything short of perfection. That is, until he met the youngest daughter of the Baek household—the family's black sheep, an enigmatic spinster whom he found utterly confounding.

A/N: Special thanks to my one and only, my pookie, @itstheghostofmypast, for coming up with the title of our captain's spinoff.

Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist | Part 1

"Well, what do you think?" inquired the dressmaker, proudly unveiling his newest masterpiece to his latest customer.

Eyeing the elegantly colourful hanbok, which was a departure from your usual plain white ones, your gaze remained impassive. After what seemed like an eternity, you responded with a slight furrow of your brows, "It uhh... it looks nice, I suppose."

As you watched Hongjoong's reaction falter momentarily, it appeared as though he was experiencing a million emotions per second before settling on a deeply offended expression. With an audible scoff, he clenched his jaw, "Nice, you say? Just... nice? You suppose? Miss Baek, that is utterly outrageous! Throughout my career, I've only ever been praised for delivering perfection."

You stayed silent as he continued to extol his successes, boasting about being the best dressmaker in all of Joseon and citing his most illustrious achievements, such as the wedding dress he crafted for Lady Park, which even impressed Their Majesties. It dawned on you that your simple response had deeply wounded him.

"I-I mean... it's not bad," you interjected, hoping to fix the damage, but your heart sank as he only glared at you, "Not bad...? I'm sorry, was that supposed to console me?" he chuckled incredulously, "You know what? Now I understand why you're still single. At this rate, you'll never find a husband."

Ouch.

The way Hongjoong's spinoff wasn't even meant to be next, but y'all were so hyped for his, I had to change up the sequence HAHA as always, I'd love to hear all your thoughts on the concept! <3

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All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[starlight-and-whiskey]

Under Your Skin: Teaser

Teaser: Arthur daddy fic. For @heron-feathers First part of what was meant to be a ficlet, but has run away with me once again into a multi chapter monstrosity. Please have this portion of CH1 as a token offering. I wholeheartedly promise there is whump daddy Arthur to come (maybe a couple times).

It was never meant to be more than it was. In truth, it was never even meant to be that. For months now, the steady glances that you and Arthur had exchanged over the glow of a fire had grown longer. Despite the gruff exterior he upheld so well and the stubborn defiance you clung to; the subtle digs you barbed at each other had grown softer. Sly comments had come with less bite, accompanied by barely-there grazes of a broad palm against the dip of your back. Your teasing came with less bitterness, instead delivered with a tight lipped smirk and a slight nudge of your hip against his. The first time it had happened, neither of you could quite remember how you’d wound up waking in each other’s arms in the stark daylight of a saloon hotel room, though the pounding in your skull and a tongue too thick for your mouth told you too much whiskey must have had a hand in it. With flushed glances and the heart stopping realisation that you were both as naked as the day you were born, you’d both sheepishly dressed in tense silence. Leaving town separately, you’d staggered your rides back to camp, stomach’s churning with a mix of sickening hangover and crippling anxiety at a line crossed, a boundary blurred. You avoided each other for nearly a week after that.

The second time was different. Not because it was planned, because it wasn’t. Not because it made more sense, because it didn’t. The second time had been comfort during a drowning of sorrows after a job gone south. Both aching for comfort, yearning for touch. It had come with a calloused thumb brushing a tear from your cheek, with a hitching breath and eyes drifting to plump lips. It had come with a familiarity of having been here before, even if neither of you could quite remember it straight.

The third time had been weeks later, caught in a storm on a hunting trip, huddled in a tent barely big enough to fit Arthur’s broad frame. The rain had pounded against the ground, the wind whipping the canvas like the world was ending. Together you’d laid with shoulders brushing, feeling the thunder rumble through the earth, both soaked to the bone and shuddering so hard your teeth rattled. “Jesus”, he’d chattered with brows knitted at the way you trembled, a hand finding your hip. “C’mere.”

He’d wrapped his arms around you like it was instinct, pulling you into the fractional warmth of his chest. Broad, calloused hands began to move in a vain attempt to rub heat into your arms, your shoulders, down your spine. What started as shared warmth shifted slowly, inevitably, until your trembling lips were gasping his name against the hollow of this throat.

The fourth time – the fifth, the sixth – came intentional. Now, it came in the seeking out of each other beneath the cover of stars, in the blue hush just before dawn, in the silence between campmate’s creaking bedrolls and the crackle of dying campfires.

It came quieter, in something never spoken aloud. No grand declarations of love were whispered, no promises passed between soft kisses. It would spark in the way your eyes searched for his across the fire, in the way his hand would brush your waist as he passed, lingering just long enough to ask, ‘later’?

Always culminating in a press of lips against a pulse, in a gasping murmur of your name against the dark, in lingering fingertips reluctantly slipping through a hand just as dawn threatened to crest. And like clockwork, any anxiety either of you held would simply melt away beneath a knowing soft smile and a brush of fingers over a mug of coffee handed over in the morning.

*

Bent over at the edge of camp, just far enough for people not to notice, you retched against the foot of a gnarled old oak tree. Again. It had been eight mornings in a row by your reckoning. At first, you’d told yourself it had been some bad stew. Then maybe the flu. Even when you’d been late with your bleed, you’d somehow not put two and two together. But now, bend double in the dawn breeze against a glowing sunrise with the acrid taste of bile lingering on your tongue, you couldn’t lie to yourself anymore. You knew exactly what this was. And you know how it happened. Who it happened with.

Goddamn it. Goddamn him. Goddamn you.

It was never meant to be more than it was.

Spitting into the underbrush, you pressed your trembling palm to your belly, as if you might feel something. But there was nothing. Not yet. Just the soft rise and fall of your breath and the cold, churning dread coiling tighter and tighter in your gut. Shit.

You couldn’t be pregnant. Not here. Not now. No one even knew about you and Arthur. Hell, was there even a ‘you and Arthur’?

Lovers? Maybe. Friends? Certainly. But not a couple. Not really. Not in any way that made this easier.

You stood slowly, head still spinning, mouth dry. You felt raw, like your skin didn’t fit quite right, like your body had turned against you. Grimacing at a smear of dirt on your dress, you brushed it off with trembling fingers you couldn’t quite stop from shaking.

Abigail had only just had her baby boy, all pudgy cheeked and cute as a button – and what had John done? Run a goddamn mile.

Arthur wasn’t John, you knew that much for certain. But that did little to ease the anxiety bubbling in your gut. You could tell him - if there was one person you wanted to tell, it would be him - but if he left you, well then there would be no going back.

Shit.

You pressed the heel of your hand to your eyes, willing the sting behind them to fade. A baby wasn’t something you could tuck away in the shadows. A baby wasn’t fleeting.

So, what the hell we you supposed to do now?

*

Four more days had passed, and if you weren’t certain before, you were now. You recognised the same symptoms Abigail had first been terrified about when she’d fallen pregnant with Jack. Your chest had become tender.  A mere whiff of Pearson’s stew would send your stomach rolling. Your bleed, late before, had now become far too late to keep praying it might still show up.

You were pregnant. There was no question anymore.

When Tilly found you that morning, your body trying to expel what little remained in your stomach, you had assumed the jig was up. Instead, she had put you to bed with little comment or question. In the dull light and humid heat of the tent, you’d curled your knees to your chest and tried to fathom a way out of this goddamn mess. In the middle of this fathoming, sometime around mid-afternoon, came the most unwelcome of visitors. Arthur.

With a hesitant call of “decent in there?”, he cleared his throat gently before pulling the flap aside, ducking in with his hat in hand. Sat on the edge of the cot, you watched as his eyes washed over you, brow furrowed, jaw already tight with a worry he was trying not to show.

“You alright?” he asked, presumably nervous at the distance you’d tried to put between you in the last couple weeks - at the lack of those midnight visits, at the way you’d shoved his hand away when he’d reached for you. “Tilly said you were sick.”

You looked away, eyes fixed on a loose thread in the blanket. “I’m fine.”

Arthur nodded and hummed a little, eyes flickering around the tent as though he could sense he wasn’t quite welcome.

“You need the doctor?” he asked, voice quieter this time. “I could take you into town.”

“I told you, I’m fine.” The words came sharper than you meant, and you winced at your own tone. “I ain’t sick.”

“Well, if you need-“

“Well, I don’t need!”

Arthur nodded through a frown, chewing on his cheek. “You’re quiet,” he said, hesitantly. “Been quiet for days.”

His gaze lingered on you, unreadable as he tilted his head. “If you ain’t sick… are you, I don’t know, you mad at me or something?”

You shook your head, clenching you jaw. “No.”

“Was it what I said… ‘bout you finally lookin’ like a lady in that dress? ‘Cause… I didn’t mean nothin’ by it. Just thought you looked nice is all -”

“No”, you whispered, rubbing at your aching temples.

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at you. “You’re just… actin’ like you don’t want nothin’ to do with me all of a sudden. I don’t know what I did, but if…”

“Arthur…”

And yet he continued, like he hadn’t quite heard you, licking his bottom lip, thumb hooked in his gun belt. “If I messed up somehow, I’d like to fix it.”

You sighed, fingers pressing at your forehead, wishing he’d just stop talking.

 “I just - what the hell happened? It’s like you can’t stand being around me. Couple weeks ago, we were…” He trailed off, his mouth twisting, searching for the right words that wouldn’t come. “…close.”

“Jesus Christ, Arthur, I told you I’m fine!”, you yelled, slapping your hand against the cot. “Why can’t you just back off!”

For a moment, his face slackened like you’d just slapped him, eyes flicking away, jaw twitching before his expression hardened with something close to hurt.

“Fine,” he sighed, throwing his hands up with a dry huff. “Suit yourself.”

With a harsh exhale through his nose, Arthur shook his head and stalked back out to camp, boots stomping against the damp dirt with a gruff, under-his-breath mutter of “Goddamn, women”.

Your heart ached, stomach twisting in that all-too-familiar way. Regret came hot on your heels.

“Arthur…” you called after him, but he was already gone.

[ghostodyssey]

Hold Me Like Water, Hold Me Like A Knife | Teaser

Ghost x Soap x Female Reader 1k words warnings: ghoap established relationship, nanny!reader, allusions to domestic abuse, possible references to sexual abuse/non-con in later chapters (not ghoap), eventual smut.

I was born on a day like this, I think. 

Storm-streaked he had called me once. If only he could see me now, wind beaten and with the acrid taste of seafret on my lips. These days I am more storm than woman. Because who can become the water without inheriting its violence, or its loneliness.

The Greeks said that water is the element of love. That Aphrodite herself was born from the pearlescent seafoam of the Kytherian sea. Born to be cruel and beautiful, and fearless. 

Looking out at the water now, fear is all I know.

The sky is streaked in veins of charcoal, indigo and jade that bleed into the vast, black tapestry of the sky, where the horizon meets the North Sea. A cruel wind tears through the narrow streets of the small, coastal town like a maelstrom and I cast my eyes skyward at the peal of thunder. When I was a girl, my grandfather taught me to count the moments between the cacophony of thunder and the flashes of lightning that flower like bruises along the skyline, so that I knew how many miles away it might be. I know now that I am standing in the eye of the storm.

In these quiet moments where reality abates me, I find myself adrift. Lost in a sea of memories. The mournful recollections of a home long gone. If it was ever real to begin with.

I clutch at the folder in my arms, cradling it in a vain attempt to protect it from the elements. The documents and references inside are all I have left. My destination looms in front of me like a taunt. 

The townhouse is nestled into a quiet corner of the sleepy coastal town, its slate facade rendering it rather unremarkable at first glance. However, at closer inspection, I notice the care with which this house has been made into a home. The large bay windows on the ground floor have been wreathed in greenery. Climbing ivy and primrose, which douses the house in the smell of honey and petrichor. A short wall fences off the small garden from the road. The yard itself is well maintained. If a little clinical, save for the myriad of childrens toys strewn about the lawn. 

I remain for a moment a solitary figure at the entryway of the property, contemplating the unfortunate series of events that had led me here. Further North than I have ever been. With little more than the clothes on my back and notes stashed frantically in my worn leather purse. The thought occurs to me then, that I have made a mistake in coming here.

The job posting had been painfully vague. Full-time nanny wanted. Room and board can be provided. Prior experience preferred. The distant postcode and generous wage had quickly assuaged any lingering doubts that had festered in my mind. 

I approach the townhouse’s pale, blue door tentatively. I knock thrice and the resounding silence gives me leave for my mind to wander. I stare down at the sleeves of my faded navy dress as it clings uncomfortable to my arms; the threads around the cuffs have begun to fray, the fabric falls strangely around the swell of my hips, and it is missing its top button. Shame pools in my stomach at its unsightly reflection, discoloured and sunbleached from years of use. 

Memory comes back with the swiftness of the tide. I am a girl again, coloured in the seraphic, blue light of a hospital room. I feel his hands, marred and mottled with rage, holding me down. The sounds of my screams as my dress is torn away from my heaving chest -- I had been a dreamer then. Aching and sentimental. Filled with the kind of naivety only possessed by green girls and soft-hearted poets. 

The girl I was is dead now. The woman that stands in her place had been forged of blood, and splintered bone-- made strong by violence and tempered by time. 

I’m still staring at my reflection in the glass when the door to the townhouse opens and all thought and sound eddies from my mind. The man standing in the doorway is a thing of lovely beauty. He’s built like some Greek Adonis, or perhaps Atlas holding the weight of the world on those broad shoulders. He looks as though he is carved from marble and mountain stone. The dark tresses of hair frame his fine, high cheekbones and the aquiline slope of his nose. Like something out of a painting. At last, I meet his gaze, a flash of sapphire against the pallid light of the afternoon.

For a moment silence permeates the air between us. 

“It’s bloody freezin’ bonnie, here come inside.” He welcomes me inside with the flex of a broad hand, stepping back from the door to let me in. I smile politely as I cross the threshold of the home. The smell of honeyed pears and cedar, tainted with something inherently masculine, floods my senses.

 The foyer of the spacious townhouse is beautiful; a testament to the care that has gone into making this house a home. The porch is lined with paneled wood, painted in a shade of navy only found here, in the coastal towns dotted along the Scottish border. The walls are hung with picture frames that map the long history of the family that lives here. I catalogue each one of them; candid shots of the dark haired man that span the globe, a series of drawings completed in a myriad of colourful crayon, pictures of a newborn, swaddled in pink and cradled in the tattooed arms of a masked man. By the staircase are three sets of shoes. I take it all in with a careful reverence for the love which has been contained between these walls. This place is a home. One that has been truly cherished by the people that live here. 

“You’re here for the nanny job, aye?” He asks, the calloused pads of his fingers ghosting my arm as he maneuvers me into the centre of the foyer. 

“Um ye-yes, you must be Simon?”

“He bloody wishes,” The dark haired man muses lightly, “ - nah bon, you can call me Johnny.” he says, holding out a broad palm to me. I take it tentatively and introduce myself rather clumsily. 

“So Simon is --” 

“Just through there.” Johnny interrupts, settling a hand on the small of my back and guiding me into the next room, where Simon must be waiting.

[sugudoe]

praying 𖬺͟⠀ satoru

don’t let me go ⸻ gojo has been loosing too much, don’t be another one to slip through his fingers.

on my way ⸻ it’s been a decade since your sudden disappearance, satoru should accept your absence and maybe death, but it’s hard to do so when you call him and beg for help.

good cop x bad cop ⸻ what started as the worst day of your life, ended up as the best. all thanks to a girls night gone wrong and being interrogated.

fuck it, guess we both ain’t shit ⸻ friends with benefits, except you both are desperate for each other and gojo is jealous as fuck.

burning daffodils ⸻ gojo is a martyr, bound to suffer. but you, the flowers and the woods of his clan, sometimes makes life easier.

praying 𖬺͟⠀ nanami

those dreams of mine ⸻ after shibuya, your husband avoids you by keeping himself inside the spare room in your house. after one too many realistic nightmares, you wonder if it’s all real and where is nanami to save you?

when i kissed the teacher ⸻ while helping your twin students dealing with their not so little problem, you catch the attention of their father, easily he catches yours as well.

good cop x bad cop ⸻ what started as the worst day of your life, ended up as the best. all thanks to a girls night gone wrong and being interrogated.

such a teaser ⸻ ex-husband!nanami wants you back, but first, tease him a bit.

loser nanami ⸻ virgin!nanami explaining his ct to bimbo!girlfriend, when she suddenly gets bored. still attentive, she shows him how to multitask

office hours ⸻ boss!nanami and secretary!reader, where he is gentle and a gossiper, and she avoid telling him her secrets, that mostly consist of wanting to fuck him.

praying 𖬺͟⠀ suguru

ancient love ⸻ following the bond that connects you to geto suguru, you find yourself looking for the answers to his crimes, but end up forced to a tea party with two little girls.

praying 𖬺͟⠀ toji

when i get to heaven ⸻ a glimpse of your life before, during and after your husband. the blows of life and being gifted the goodbye you never had. through beating hearts or cold corpses, toji has always loved you.

thunderstorm ⸻ how toji deals with your not irrational trauma of thunder and lightning.

praying 𖬺͟⠀ shoko

cherry soda ⸻ for the summer and prideful month of june, you, a total loser in love starts to piece the puzzles of your love life. maybe, your crush is in love with you as well.

praying 𖬺͟⠀ sukuna

set me ablaze ⸻ the burning of sukuna’s eyes, your terrible painful longing for the cold, and secrets spilled in the night involving both of your names.

others to be posted. . .

[lizardkingeliot]

Hello and happy Wednesday, friends! I'm just here to drop off a little teaser from the upcoming fourth chapter of shutter speed. I hope you all enjoy the self-indulgent horniness... 🥰

— “This is all you want, isn’t it, cheri? For me to take you. Claim you. I’m a drunken mess downstairs howling your name and all you can think of is my cock thrusting inside you.” His dream of Lestat smiled, and a laugh fell out. Pitch-dark rumble of it sweet as thunder. “That which you’ll never allow yourself to have. Because the suffering is what you love. Isn’t that right, my saintly Saint Louis?”

“Shut up,” Louis said, just barely. Whimpering when his imagining of Lestat gripped his aching cock through the front of his pants. Spike of pleasure so intense it was pain. “Had just about enough of your mouth.”

“Oh, my sweet…” Vision of Lestat bending down, down. Golden hair like sparks coming to swallow Louis whole. Pressing his lips right to Louis’ ear as he purred—“We both know that isn’t true. We both know…” Pulling back, nuzzling the ends of their noses together. The heat of him real and true as living, breathing flames. “You would die for my mouth.”

That dream of Lestat kissed him soft and sweet and slow. And then all at once he was plunging his tongue into Louis’ mouth. A snarl pouring from his throat, flowing sweet as honey from deep inside him. Filling Louis’ belly with the heat of a hundred-thousand suns. What was happening? Everything. Louis was spreading his legs and the imagining of his lover was settling in between them. Kissing Louis like he was starved, like he was trying to crawl inside him, trying to swallow him head-to-toe.

Pulling back, Lestat drew his teeth along the swell of Louis’ bottom lip. Said—“You would die…” His lip twitching back, his fangs falling down. Louis had his hands shoved down inside the back pockets of Lestat’s jeans. Drawing him impossibly closer, rocking up against his erection. “For my fangs in your neck while I fuck you.”

[hey-august]

Is this what you wanted? | Buggy x afab!Reader

WC: 3k Warnings: NSFW, mdni, Buggy x afab!reader, friends to something, profanity, mentions of alcohol, fingering - reader receiving, vaginal sex, creampie, pls practice safe sex, angst no comfort A/N: Um...I'm sorry. I'm happy with this story, but also so very sorry. Happy Angst August!

Teaser: Buggy placed a hand around your fist, keeping his coat trapped. He tilted his head and raised his brows, a cue for you to continue talking. Instead, you fell into the depths of his eyes. Like you did that night in the rain.

You both knew what this was. A handful of sunny afternoons spent with sandy feet and ice cold beer bottles dripping with condensation. Nights in seedy bars - fingertips salty from snacking on peanuts and empty shells found in your pockets the next morning. An hour or two grabbing a bite to eat, sharing a plate of puffed pastries stuffed with spiced meat, or seeing who can eat a bucket of fried spiraled potatoes the fastest. (Buggy got the furthest before he bit his tongue, shrieked at the horrifically incorrect crunch, and you dropped your food while cackling.)

This was fun and that’s all it was.

Just moments of levity whenever time found you two together. There was nothing more behind the way you hugged Buggy each time you saw him. Or how you’d compliment his new looks and applaud the goofy poses he’d strike. Nothing behind the way his hand would rest on your shoulder or back when you two walked through crowds. Or when you’d grab his sleeve and lead the way. When his hand would rest on your knee. Nothing in the way his eyes held the stars sparkling on the water. Or your laughter in the wind when his ship is at sea.

Sure, there was the one night you two kissed. But it didn’t mean anything. It was raining. There was lightening. And thunder. You two were stuck outside, huddled under Buggy’s heavy coat, which was only getting heavier with each raindrop that it soaked up. The flashes of light were bright. Blinding. And the thunder was loud. And his lips were close.

You couldn’t keep your eyes off of them as he talked. The red paint was faded from a night of drinking. Buggy would lick his lips while talking. Drops of rain clung to the stubble on his jaw. His adam’s apple bobbed. And his lips…they were soft and warm against yours. The next flash of lightening shone brightly in his eyes before he returned the kiss. In the rain, while hiding under a coat. And that’s where the moment ended.

They were rare, but the times you spent on Buggy’s ship were some of your favorites. He was loved by his crew and they embraced you by extension. Cheery greetings and invites to have a drink were plentiful. They pulled you into their tricks and dances, told you stories and listened to yours, asked for your help and shared advice. The ship was noisy, it smelled, there was chaos and mess, and it suited your Buggy perfectly.

The moon watched you and the captain in his quarters. Laughing and drinking, like usual. The pirate was showing you a map, a finger rasping as it followed the course set for tomorrow morning. He tapped a spot excitedly, telling you about all the treasures that would belong to him. How the expedition will make him and his crew famous. That you were lucky to know the Great Captain Buggy and the fearsome Buggy Pirates before it all changed. And even luckier, he would bring you back something special.

His volume rose and dropped, uncontrollable with the enthusiasm bubbling through him. The passion and fervor Buggy emanated was captivating. In this moment, he was walking among the stars. And in this moment, you wanted to walk with him.

“I could go with you.”

Buggy paused, then let out a deep belly laugh. He tapped the map again and explained how dangerous the trip would be. His crew was trained and ready and even then, some of them might not make it back. Meanwhile, you could count the number of islands and towns you’ve visited on one hand. On the map, the circumference of your travels was smaller than the bottom of the bottle you two had been sharing.

“Don’t make jokes like that,” he said, wiping a tear from his eye and leaving behind a smudge of eyeliner.

“I’m serious. I want to go with you.” You stared at Buggy, just waiting for him to laugh that beautifully irritating laugh again.

But he didn’t. The lighthearted joy slid away while the smile stayed. The twinkle in his eyes flickered, a weak candle in the darkness overtaking his expression.

“You don’t know what you want.” Buggy spoke slowly, as if you misunderstood yourself. As if he knew better.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that! Don’t fucking patronize me,” you stormed over to Buggy and grabbed the lapel of his coat, ignoring the giggle that escaped his mouth. “I know what I want.”

“Then tell me.” His voice was low. Teasing. Burrowing into your head.

You stared deep in the pirates eyes, ready to repeat yourself.

“I want…” The words drifted off as nimble shadows pulled at the truth that both of you knew. The real answer. It wasn’t what you wanted, but who.

Buggy placed a hand around your fist, keeping his coat trapped. He tilted his head and raised his brows, a cue for you to continue talking. Instead, you fell into the depths of his eyes. Like you did that night in the rain. You crashed, lips first.

He let you push his coat off, rolling his shoulders until the heavy garment fell. Buggy matched your movements to stay connected and entangled. When you were busy holding him close - hands on either side of his face, sliding to the back of his head, down to feel his chest - his hands busied themselves with buttons and buckles. Then they busied themselves elsewhere.

Your heartbeat increased dramatically, nearly pushing you out of your mind, when Buggy’s fingers dipped beneath your clothes. Biting his bottom lip, you whined. The moment was becoming too full to hold everything. It threatened to split you - mind and body. To force you to pick between thinking and experiencing.

“Too hard,” Buggy snapped, pulling his tender lip from your teeth.

You mumbled an apology. Maybe. It felt like you said something as you pressed your forehead against his stubbled cheek. Despite starting the journey cautiously, one of Buggy’s fingers slipped and slid between your folds and collided with your clit, sending a jolt through your body. Standing on tiptoes, you let out a pitiful moan and leaned into Buggy more. You swayed together, adrift in the waves the ship sat on.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.”

“Mmhmm…”

Buggy’s chin was pressed against your head grinding into the acknowledgment you nodded. His body continued to chase and constrain you. The arm wrapped around your back was less of an embrace for affection, but more for desire. He pulled you off balance just enough for him to hold and maneuver you. With a leg wedged in the area between yours, Buggy ignored the space you tried to create by hovering above the pleasure.

With each caress, every drag of his thick fingers against your bundle of nerves, you floated into the stars. Buggy pressed against you, pushing you higher and higher until there wasn’t enough air to breath. Your head was whirling, following the movement of the constellations and the spin of galaxies. You were far, far away. Clinging to Buggy’s shoulders, you clawed your way back into your body and back into his hold.

“N-no, wait,” you choked out.

Buggy’s jaw moved but the words were lost in your messy hair. Sliding a hand down to his elbow, you pushed the pirate’s arm back. The rest of his body followed, leaving an emptiness between your legs and in your chest.

He held up the two fingers that stole some of your heat and rubbed them together before pulling them apart. A strand of wetness bridged the gap, a sticky thread catching shimmers of light. With a wink, Buggy popped his slick-coated fingers in his mouth and nodded in approval.

The captain’s desk was barely a step behind you. Between the furniture and the captain himself, there was hardly enough space to undress. Sitting on the hard wooden edge, you kicked off your heavy shoes with a thud and shimmied out of your pants. Two hands on your hips stopped your next moves.

Buggy hooked his fingers on either side of your cotton panties and slid them down slowly. So fucking slow. The feeling rippled out across your skin, bringing heat and goosebumps. The little bit clinging slick that found it’s way to your thigh was cold.

“You’re fucking dripping,” Buggy said, his eyes following a tangible path from the thin, soaked fabric and up to your wet cunt.

“Because you keep teasing me, you shit!” Your breathless response couldn’t hold onto the intended sharpness. If anything, you were whining. Begging for more.

The hungriness only increased when Buggy finished undoing his pants and let them fall, along with his underwear. His cock sprang forwards and bobbed, finally freed in your presence for the first time.

Sure, some late night rum-fueled talks carried filthy stories. Raunchy comments about past trysts and boastful claims about sex and alcohol, both of which came with daring remarks about what was under everything. Poking at suspected lies and prodding at the truth beneath all the clothes and bravado. Despite the talks and drunken dances, stupid faces while eating hot dogs and sausages, cream-filled pastries and familiar looking fruit, you weren’t ready.

Buggy’s cock was thick and dripping, the shiny head swollen with the audacity he had for commenting on how wet you were. Despite all the precum smeared on the blunt tip, his stupid striped underwear was probably just as wet as yours. What a fucker. You watched his dick twitch, bouncing erratically under it’s own weight while another pearly bead gathered at the slit.

“Oh just say it! You’re too easy to read.”

Buggy’s taunt was accompanied by bringing a hand to the base of his erection. With his thumb and forefinger nestled more in the blue curls than wrapped around his member, Buggy held himself carefully. Little movements let him squeeze and stroke the bottom of the shaft, working out a groan that was just as light.

Your eyes flicked up to meet his. The cool color stood out among the hot flush on his face, which was adorned with beads of sweat already collecting near his hairline.

“You’re fucking dripping,” you said. The smile that grew on your face was met with an equally pleased grin from the clown. “You’re making a mess, Buggs.”

Buggy bit his lip and rolled his eyes. “I’m about to.”

Fuck, those three words were more than enough for you to spread your legs like a whore.

The first touch was everything. All the thoughts and feelings that you tried to ignore, that you peered at through closed doors, that brought you onto this damn pirate ship, went up in fire. White hot flames licked at your skin and consumed all the oxygen in the room.

Buggy’s hand trembled, sliding the tip of his dick along your slit and mixing the liquids with a sickeningly wonderful sound. Just as he took his time exposing your wet heat, Buggy took his time lining up. He ignored your little whimpers and gasps, or maybe he couldn’t hear them at all over his own ragged breathing. The way his gaze was hooked on the path his cock was following reminded you of the awe his eyes reflected when looking at a treasure map.

Just then, you wanted nothing more than to lay under all of the attention. It was agonizing. Delicious and painful. Your hands hurt from gripping the edge of the desk. Your ass hurt from hanging off the wood. Your pussy was tender from being swollen and needy for so long. Your chest ached. But all the pleasure meant you didn’t want the pain to stop. Not yet. You wanted the fire to swallow you whole.

Blue eyes found yours through the inferno. They were full of pleading and warning. Buggy’s tip rested against your entrance. Your lips mouthed a silent word, one that both confirmed and begged for what came next. For the connection that your bodies craved.

Buggy swore under his breath as he eased into you. Something about being so wet but incredibly tight. You weren’t sure. All you could think about was the stretch needed to accommodate his girth and the subsequent fullness. You were real fucking full. And you wanted more.

You looked at the man kneading your thighs. His cerulean brows were knitted close and his eyes were shut just as tight. His pink tongue poked out to moisten his lips before retreating so Buggy could clench his jaw. All while his fingers dug into your soft skin, his short painted nails threatening to leave crescent impressions.

“Bug-”

“M’fine,” he croaked. “Gimm- nnh- Give me a m-moment.”

You wanted to. Truly, you wanted to be patient. You had been so patient leading up to this, but as each second stretched in to eternity, you couldn’t wait any longer.

“Move… Please move.”

Buggy finally opened his eyes and were met by yours, which full of tears and longing.

“Fuck,” he whispered desperately as he pulled out. “How does it feel even tighter?”

Although he was talking to himself, your body reacted and Buggy groaned through the contraction.

“Goddamn it, just screw me. Stop fucking around and make a me-”

Your frustrated tirade was cut off by two fingers in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. With your mouth pushed open, Buggy pumped moan after moan out of you with the quickening thrust of his hips. It wasn’t fast by any definition, but his nails finally broke the skin on the inside of your left thigh as he tried to hold what he couldn’t.

Spit collected around his fingers. Spit that he smeared on your face when he pulled out his hand and squeezed your chin.

Buggy leaned in.

“Is this what you want?” Each measured word was delivered when his cock was buried deep.

A tear escaped from the corner of your eye and disappeared when it’s fall brought the drop to Buggy’s wet hold.

You nodded. And again, you crashed lips first. Buggy drank your bitter lie, which was sweetened by every sinful sound he fucked from you. In return, you took his heat, his lust, his passion - anything and everything he gave you in this moment. You held it all close, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“M-make a mess for me, okay? Make a mess on my cock,” Buggy panted.

You gave a half nod, stopping to press your forehead against his. Your nose against his. Buggy didn’t pull back, he stayed as you curled tightly and shook. He listened to your shallow breaths and the wet slap of his skin against yours. He bullied his cock into you repeatedly, pushing your limit until it became a new normal. Until your pussy welcomed him deep. Until you dissolved into the flames of ecstasy.

The sounds you made cracked with each throb of Buggy’s impending release. Your walls contracted and fluttered uselessly around the intrusion. The mindless responses were answered in kind by the pirate’s climax.

Buggy’s cock pulsed as it flooded your insides, his hot cum flooding what little area he didn’t already occupy before finding it’s way to the exit. With each slowing thrust, thick creamy drops fell to the floor, and seeped into the cracked wood.

With that, the fire was doused. It was gone. The heat was retreating. You clung to the embers, keeping your legs locked at the ankles. Buggy's soft touch drifted over angry red slivers on your leg before hooking under your knee and easing your tired legs further apart.

Buggy hissed when he pulled back and vacated your body entirely. The mess was undeniable. Cum and pussy juice coated his dick, collecting in the blue curls at the base. Some had found its way down his thigh, slicking down the sparse hair there. His face paint was streaked, ruined from being rubbed, touched, and sweated away. Strands of hair stuck to his face.

And as for you…well, you were entirely fucked up. Your head and heart were jumbled. Rubble and ash. And the little ember you hoped to protect didn’t survive what came next.

Buggy pulled up his underwear and pants, smothering everything under the layers of fabric.

“You should-” He was still out of breath. “You should probably head out now. You- you got what you wanted, so we’re good now.” His voice shook and he took a deep shuddering inhale.

Buggy put a large hand on your leg, his thumb grazing the marks he gave you. After a pause, he patted your thigh and squeezed one final time before leaving the room. He didn’t look back at the person he left exposed, half undressed and dripping on his own desk before closing the door.

Fuck.

The fire was back, but it hurt this time. Worse. Everything was melting and falling apart. You could hardly see through the haze as you pulled on your clothes. You couldn’t even fasten your pants. Your hands were too numb. Or maybe they were shaking. Holding your clothes together with one hand, you carried your shoes in the other. Fuck staying here any longer to put them on.

The door was in the fucking way. Not just because it was a door but because -fuck it. Just fucking fuck.

Your shoes fell from your hand as you struggled to turn the knob. You finally got the door open but those goddamn fucking shoes were in the way. Bending down, the first sob escaped your lips.

With shoes in hand again, you kicked the door open the rest of the way and padded out of the suffocating room. You kept your eyes trained to the floor as you navigated your way off the ship. While you could avoid seeing any of the sideways glances from the crew, you couldn’t tune out the murmurs and chatters. You did your best to ignore hesitant calls and move away from pitying hands.

You didn’t want their reassurances. You didn’t want their pity. You didn’t want any of it.

Because, according to Buggy, you already got what you wanted.

[nevadancitizen]

-> TEASER: WHY DOES EVIL WEAR A FACE SO FAMILIAR?

synopsis: you and logan were taken by the federation years ago.

word count: ~550

ships: Keegan Russ/Reader, Ghosts team & Reader

notes: just a quick thing to establish relationships and to see if anyone is interested because i want a ghosts sequel. so i figured i might as well write it. please lmk if you're interested <3! i'd love to talk to people about this lololol

Elias lied.

Elias was a lot of things – a husband, a father, a captain. But above all things else, he was a fucking liar. 

He parroted stories of the Federation not forcing people out of Houston, San Antonio, Fort Worth, Dallas, and every town in between, but butchering them. Slaughtering everyone who wasn’t fast enough to get away. The elderly, the ill, children, those who stopped to help the wounded. It made no difference to them – age, race, military or civilian or someone wearing a red cross. Every American in the vicinity was shot, stabbed, or bludgeoned to death. Each soldier in the Federation had one unifying trait – that none of them could be reasoned with. They were relentless in their pursuit of slaughter.

Living in willful ignorance is an ugly thing. But you have been enlightened. Through what Elias called “poisons and tortures” of the flesh, mind, and soul, you have seen the truth – as has Logan.

The day you both were rebirthed was a blessing. You were both made siblings in arms, codependent but thriving by each other’s sides. 

Your eyes were opened – the Federation isn’t the USSR’s second coming, but something better. Something revised and edited and molded to be superior in both technology and execution. The leaders of the USSR were selfish men who got off to the idea of hoarding wealth under the guise of communism. The Federation is too cutthroat for the slightest shift outside of the status quo. Moles and double agents aren’t tolerated. The bloodstains on the bullet traps on the firing ranges are evidence enough.

Of course, Keegan doesn’t know this. Because where you are fighting for a righteous cause, he is a threat to the precious collective. 

You don’t love him. Not anymore.

When you and Logan were dragged away on that beach, the world turned dull for both Keegan and Hesh. 

Hesh felt the grief for his brother in a full-bodied ache – something that tore at his heart and collapsed his lungs. Rorke took every single person that was left of his family. His world became The Fire That Consumes My Brother by Thích Nhất Hạnh. He hoped that the torch of Logan’s body burned bright enough to be seen through the denseness of South American jungles. 

He silently begged in the rain, praying that Logan could hear him. With every clap of thunder, he heard something that sounded like Logan’s raspy, barely-used voice crying for help. And Hesh sat, and he listened. The rain hid his tears well enough, anyway. 

For Keegan, it was a dull hurt. Something that permeated every thought and action in his life. His world became Funeral Blues by W.H. Auden. Keegan didn’t want anything to do with a world that didn’t have you in it. Even though there wasn’t a funeral, as both you and Logan were marked as MIA, Keegan still felt as though he was the only pallbearer, shouldering the weight of your coffin by himself. 

The world was no longer beautiful with this unrelenting shadow over him. The stars weren’t as bright, the moon wasn’t as wonderful, the sunshine wasn’t as nice and warm as it once was. You were his North, his South, his East, his West – his noon, his midnight, his every hour in between. But cardinal directions don’t have as much meaning anymore, and neither does time.

Keegan thought love would last forever. Keegan was wrong.

[lordsukunas]

tldr: suguru as a child/early teenager and his journey as a sorcerer after he meets you, his new neighbor.

cw: mentions of vomiting, not in-depth. not edited, not beta-read, rushed, and possibly ooc suguru. gender neutral and sorcerer!reader.

a/n: sigh... i’m so tired. probably when i wake up i’ll actually edit it, but i just needed to get something out, so maybe consider this a lil teaser...? i might make a second part expanding on how he ends up going to jjt n then whenever he defects, but im absolutely exhausted rn. exams have been kicking my ass </3 + im going to a festival so this might not be edited for a lil while longer. sorry yall!

a part of me thinks suguru would live in some small, unknown little town. the people are closed-minded, content with the life they’ve built for themselves, and they don’t want it to change. if you’re born there, it’s hard to get out, especially with such few opportunities. it’s a town meant to keep aspiring little doves caged within its walls.

so imagine some six, maybe seven year-old boy going around saying he sees monsters sometimes. of course, the first conclusion any adult would reach is that the poor thing is having nightmares. he’ll grow out of it — all of them do.

but suguru doesn’t.

he’s afraid to sleep at night, and despite his parents’ pleas for him to sleep in their bed, he says that he can’t. “what if you get hurt too?”

they end up having to sneak melatonin in his dinner to get him to sleep at night.

when he turns eleven, he gets a grasp on his technique. he has to eat the monsters, consume them so that they don’t go out and hurt anyone else. that’s easy enough, right?

for the first few weeks, he vomits. they taste disgusting, like dried, crusty rags used to clean up puke and shit. but he has to do it, he has to! otherwise, who’s going to keep his innocent parents safe?

so he keeps going. exorcise, consume, puke. exorcise, consume, puke. exorcise, consume, puke.

exorcise and consume.

then, at age twelve, you come along.

you’re like the sun peeking through the dark clouds after days full of rain and thunder. a breath of fresh air, a sugary treat to balance out the saltiness of this shitty town.

you move into the once abandoned house right beside his, a radiant smile on your face and eyes twinkling with determination.

beautiful, perfect, normal.

the two of you click almost instantly, although suguru’s a little reluctant at first — what if you think he’s weird? his parents and teachers say he’s a bit troubled, nosy neighbors joke that he’s a few sandwiches short of a picnic, and bored grandmas claim he’s been touched by the devil. despite their rumors, despite suguru’s reputation, despite the fact you two are polar opposites, you don’t avoid him. in fact, it’s like those things just entice you even more.

“suguru.”

the fear in your voice catches him off-guard, and he stops walking. your hand grips the hem of his jacket, and your finger slowly raises to point towards the corner.

“what is that?”

it’s a crude thing. skin a dingy shade of purple, stubby limbs twisted and contorted into impossible angles, and jagged yellow teeth that poke past its thin, cracked lips.

that’s when he realizes it: you can see them too.

he’s not alone. finally, fucking finally, suguru geto is not alone.

by thirteen, you and suguru are attached at the hip. there’s not a day where the two of you don’t see each other, even when you get grounded for accidentally breaking a bathroom stall trying to exorcise a curse.

they’re so ungrateful.

he’s tainted your image. you were once normal, the cute neighbor nextdoor, but now you’re best friends with suguru, the pretty boy with the strange bangs and broken mind.

you don’t care though, and he loves that you never have.

nothing can separate you. you go to school together, take the same classes (thanks to suguru modifying his schedule), walk home together, exorcise curses together.

you’re all he needs, and he’s all you need. you’re the only ones who understand each other on a fundamental level, who know each other inside and out, down to the very last atom in your bodies.

with you, he’s sure that he can snap the chain and leave this place, to soar so high in the sky that there’s nothing and no one left but you and him.

you hand suguru his slushie, and he takes a long sip, letting the sugar-filled drink wash away the lingering taste of today’s curse.

“sometimes, i think we’re kinda like batman and superman.”

suguru can’t help but scoff. “us? you think we’re superheroes?” how unsurprisingly childish of you.

you nod, snapping your kit-kat bar in half and taking a bite out of it. “yeah, dude! we fight alien bad guys with our superpowers. pretty cool, right?”

he leans back, legs spread and an arm resting on the back of the bench. “sure, but they always get rewarded for saving the day. what do we get?” he doesn’t wait for your answer. “nothing.”

a small frown flits across your typically cheerful features, and suguru wishes he could shove his words back into his mouth and down his throat.

“mm... i think we get stuff. we get to see our parents safe, and even if no one else here really likes us, they’re safe thanks to us, too.” the toe of your shoe traces shapes into the pavement. “we’re the only ones that can do this, suguru. it’s our duty.”

right. duty.

suguru hums, but you can’t tell whether it’s in agreement or not. you decide that it doesn’t matter, that he’s just thinking like always.

“wish i was rich, though," you joke and pop the rest of your little kit-kat stick into your mouth.

after a moment, he shakes his head and takes a sip of his bright purple drink. “me too.”