#so many feelings but I can't put it into words :( I remember how happy I was when I got my first follower lmao

[witchywithwhiskey]

been eager to dive back into this story and it's finally time!!!

i love foreboding the vibes of this story. the sense that there's so much more going on just makes me want to know MORE. i want to know EVERYTHING!!!

that said, i'm very happy we get a fun little Yelena diversion. i love writing Yelena into fics because she's such a cheeky character, and i think you captured that part of her very well!!

"Oh, I have many words for it, but 'intensity' is the polite one."

like this!! it's such a snarky, little sister comment and i love that. even in this very professional setting in front of someone the Foundation is trying to woo, Yelena is going to be herself.

though i did wonder how much of Yelena and Natasha's banter was for reader's benefit to put her at ease 👀 i feel like we know Natasha has scheduled the whole day perfectly and i'm so curious about just how deep that goes.

"looking like a very patriotic drowned rat"

🤣 this had me cackling. i could absolutely see Yelena describing Steve this way—meanwhile, i'd be picturing Steve's wet clothes plastered to his chest 🫠🫠🫠 i'm sure he'd make a very handsome patriotic drowned rat.

As you carefully pull the book from the shelf, you feel a slight vibration, almost like a pulse of energy, and you pull your hand away immediately.

i can't remember if i've mentioned this before—and i've tried really hard not to spoil myself with the later chapters—but is there a supernatural element to this???? (don't tell me!!!) i do enjoy the lack of knowing. there's so much hidden beneath the surface of this story and it all makes me feel like i'm on the back foot. which i think is how i'm supposed to feel, and it makes me all the more curious to see what's next.

and now reader has accepted the position, when she doesn't even know what she's going to be doing!!! although, if she accepted an in-person interview at their estate in the country after already suspecting they might be a cult, that sounds about right. but i get it, financial stability is important!

but i still have one question, because i don't feel like Natasha was completely forthright: WHY was reader chosen to work with Bucky??? do we find out later??? i'm assuming we find out later—don't tell me!!

as you can probably tell, i enjoyed this a lot, Aspen. i'm so drawn in by the world you've created and the story you're telling. i'm eager to get to the smutty bits but i'm really having fun with the slow buildup. and i can't wait to read more!!

Chosen, Part 3: Consideration

Characters/Pairings: eventual Bucky x curvy Millennial Female!Reader, Natasha Romanoff, Yelena Belova Word Count: 4.4k Summary: You have quite a lot to consider over the course of the afternoon as Natasha wants you to decide whether or not you'll accept an offer with the Foundation. An unexpected discussion with someone you trust helps you sort out some of your thoughts.

SERIES Content Warnings: SOFT!DARK STORY, cult themes, explicit smut, dubious consent and enthusiastic consent, veiled truths, gaslighting

CHAPTER Content Warnings: hints of manipulation - flattery

Notes: New and familiar faces, and a line of insight into at least part of why you may consider accepting a very mysterious offer to join The Winged Heritage Foundation.

Previous: Lunch | Series List

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Back on the move and without Natasha’s piercing gaze on you, you still can't shake the continual feeling that you're venturing into something far more complex and mysterious than you'd initially imagined.

Stepping back into the grand foyer, you’re approached by a young woman as impeccably dressed as Natasha, with blonde hair styled into an intricate braid that’s pulled over her shoulder. Although her stance is official - a tablet in her hands, seemingly waiting for the two of you - her expression is playful, a mix of warmth and sarcasm, if sarcasm could be deemed an actual facial expression.

"Ah, perfect timing,” Natasha says, then turns to you. “Allow me to introduce you to Yelena Belova, one of our HR liaisons and your escort for the afternoon."

“And her adopted sister,” Yelena adds, stepping forward and extending her hand with a spirited grin. "Nice to meet you," she says, her voice a melodic blend of Russian and American accents. "I hope Natasha hasn't scared you off yet with all her intensity."

Natasha rolls her eyes, but there's a fondness in her expression. "Yelena will be taking over from here. I think you could use a break from my – as Yelena put it – intensity."

Yelena's grin widens. "Oh, I have many words for it, but 'intensity' is the polite one."

You can't help but laugh.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Natasha says, “and I’ll see you again for afternoon tea.”

As Natasha excuses herself, Yelena gestures for you to follow her upstairs. You feel instantly at ease, Yelena’s playful demeanor a refreshing change of pace after the first half of the day. You ascend the sweeping staircase, your footsteps muffled by the plush carpet runner. The upper floor is just as impressive as the ground level, with high ceilings adorned with intricate moldings and chandeliers that sparkle like cascading diamonds.

Yelena leads you down a hallway, passing doors of rich, dark wood with brass handles polished to a mirror shine. She regales you with amusing anecdotes about life at the Foundation as you go.

"You wouldn't believe the things that happen around here," she says, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Last week, Tony Stark accidentally set off the sprinkler system in the east wing while testing some new gadget. You should have seen Roger’s face when he walked in, soaked to the bone, looking like a very patriotic drowned rat."

Yelena's stories have you laughing as she leads you to a door at the end of the hallway. She opens it, revealing a cozy sitting room that takes your breath away – yet another thing that’s done so today.

The room is circular, with floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a panoramic view of the estate's grounds. Plush armchairs and sofas in rich jewel tones are arranged around a central fireplace, its mantle adorned with intricate carvings of flowers and vines. Bookshelves line the walls between the windows, filled with leather-bound tomes that look ancient and valuable. It seems to be an oasis away from the larger library you saw this morning.

"This is the Starlight Room," Yelena explains, gesturing around. "It's one of my favorite spots in the whole mansion. You've got about twenty minutes to relax before the first of your afternoon meetings. There’s a powder room attached to this sitting room,” she points to the corner, “so I’ll leave you to yourself, but if you need anything, I’ll be just down the hall.”

You thank Yelena and sink into one of the plush armchairs, taking a moment to absorb the stunning view and process everything you've experienced so far. The room is peaceful, with soft classical music playing from hidden speakers. You close your eyes for a moment, letting the gentle melody wash over you, relishing the moment of quiet after the whirlwind of the day so far.

When you open your eyes again, your gaze is drawn to the bookshelves, and you can’t resist the opportunity to explore freely. Rising from your seat, you approach the nearest shelf, running your fingers gently along the spines of the ancient-looking tomes. The titles are in various languages, some you recognize and others you don't. One book in particular catches your eye – a slim volume bound in midnight blue leather with silver lettering that seems to shimmer as you look at it.

As you carefully pull the book from the shelf, you feel a slight vibration, almost like a pulse of energy, and you pull your hand away immediately.

You shake your head and take a deep breath, urging yourself to pull it together. Your mind is getting caught up in the shrouded secrecy of the day. There’s nothing magical in this library, you think.

You reach for the book again, and there’s another surge of vibration, but you laugh, feeling both relieved and a little silly when you realize it’s coming from your phone in your pocket.

It’s a text from your best friend saying she hopes things are going well and that she’s wishing you the best possible outcome.

You smile, and then hit dial on her contact.

She picks up almost immediately. “Hello?” her voice is clearly excited and surprised.

“Hi,” you breathe, feeling relief at hearing her voice on the other end of the line.

“Is everything okay?” she asks immediately.

“Yes! Yes,” you reassure her instantly. “I just have a break, and you apparently have perfect timing, so I thought I’d call. Are you good to talk for a few minutes?”

“Sure,” she replies. “I’m just having toilet time in the company bathroom.”

You gasp. “And you took a call? Isn’t that against your code of ethics for what happens in a public bathroom?” you mock.

She laughs. “I make exceptions for best friends who are on insane day trips for big time interviews. Besides, no one else is in here right now. Now spill! How’s the day been so far?”

“I had to sign an NDA-”

“An NDA?” she exclaims, then sighs. “Of course they had you sign an NDA.”

“-but I’ll try and tell you as much as I can.” You launch into a rundown of how gorgeous the house and grounds are, that most of the morning was spent touring the facility, and you say that the work is fascinating and impressive - though you can’t go into more detail than that. You mention that you met some very interesting personnel - one with a lot of personality, even though you can’t mention it’s Tony. You can’t expound in much detail what you discussed over lunch with Steve and Natasha, but you paint broad strokes. Since they are the Executive Director and the Chief Recruitment Officer and that knowledge is publicly available on their website, you do feel you’re safe to at least say who you had lunch with. Your best friend reminds you she has a huge crush on the Natasha, having looked up as much as she could about the Winged Heritage Foundation as well, and ultimately finding little more than you had, but falling down a rabbit hole of a thirst trap for the redhead.

“So, I know you can’t tell me what is it that they do there, but do you feel like you know what they do and what do they want you to do?” she asks when you reach a pause in your recounting of the day.

You sink down into one of the armchairs next to the window and pinch the bridge of your nose.

Apparently you’re silent too long, because your friend nudges you from the other end of the line, prompting you earnestly with your name.

You sigh. “I still don’t know,” you confess.

This time your name is exclaimed in disbelief on the other end of the line.

“I know! Trust me, I know.”

“You’ve been there for hours, had a massive tour, spent time with their top executives, and you still don’t know?”

“I know a lot more, and I have meetings set up this afternoon with more people – basically informal interviews, me getting to talk to them, and them getting to know me, and they’ll probably report back their impressions in the final notes that will be considered, but…” you trail off, hesitant to say more.

“But what?” she presses.

You don’t know if sharing this detail will put you in breach of the NDA, and you’re also wary of the reaction it will get, but this will directly affect your life, so you decide to tell her anyway.

“But Natasha said she essentially wants me to commit to whether or not I’ll accept an offer by the end of the afternoon.”

“What? That’s insane!”

She can’t see it, but you grimace all the same.

“I swear to god,” she continues, “the only thing keeping this from being a straight up cult is that they’ve been transparent in offering you a compensation package and at least gave you time to consider that. This is like some Goldman Sachs level secrecy.”

“Yeah,” you agree.

“And I’m still not thoroughly convinced they’re not a cult.”

You huff.

“They’re probably not a cult though,” she backtracks slightly. “You’re the one who’s there, trust your gut. You have good instincts.”

You sigh, leaning back in the plush armchair. "You're right, I need to trust my instincts. It's just there's so much mystery here. I feel like I'm only seeing the surface and I know there’s so many things that go so much deeper."

"Well, what does your gut tell you?" your friend asks.

You pause, considering. "Honestly? It's telling me that this is an incredible opportunity. The people I've met are brilliant and passionate. The work they're doing, even if I don't fully understand it yet, feels important. And there's this energy here, this sense of purpose that's hard to explain."

"But?" Your friend prompts, sensing your hesitation.

"But there's also this underlying current of,” you are pinning down the question marks in what you’re seeing as you speak to your best friend, as you so often do, “I don't know, secrecy? Power? It's kind of thrilling and but also a little unnerving."

Your friend is quiet for a moment. "Look," she finally says, “you’re a trooper, you try not to let things get you down, but I know you’ve been pretty unhappy lately with work. For a long time now. You’ve been looking for a new job for a while, so if you feel like this could be it, take it. No job will ever be perfect, but the wardrobe allowance they want to give alone - hell, the fact that there is a wardrobe allowance - is worth putting up with any number of sins! And if it’s god awful, either you’ll complain about it to me and I’ll continue to make jokes about them being a cult or you stay long enough to have the nest egg you need to quit, and then we find you something else.”

You laugh. “Thank you,” you say, sincerely. “I needed that.”

“You’re my clever best friend and you can do no wrong in this world ever,” she gushes in a rush.

“Not true! Bye!”

“Bye!” she laughs as you cut the call.

You check the time and see that you have just a few minutes to refresh in the powder room. You use the toilet, straighten your clothes, touch up your hair, and make sure nothing is in your teeth from lunch. Returning to the Starlight Room proper, you have just enough time to rub some lotion onto your hands and pop a mint into your mouth, before there’s a soft but brief knock on the door.

Before you can answer, Yelena bursts into the room with what appears to be her characteristic energy, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. "Ready for round two?" she asks, her eyes twinkling.

You nod, feeling a renewed sense of purpose after your phone conversation. "Absolutely," you reply with a confident smile.

"Excellent," Yelena says, gesturing for you to follow her. "As you know, we've got a series of meetings lined up for you this afternoon. Think of them as informal chats rather than interviews. We want you to get a feel for the different aspects of our work here and the broader culture of the team at large."

This confirms almost exactly what you surmised over the phone.

You walk with Yelena down the hallway, and she continues, "First up is Dr. Bruce Banner. He heads our research division. Brilliant mind, a bit intense at times. Don't worry if he gets a little caught up in the science - it's his passion."

“If Dr. Banner is head of research, what’s Tony’s role?” you ask.

“Head of development,” Yelena explains. “As a pair, Tony pushes Bruce, and Bruce reigns Tony in.”

You laugh softly, eager to meet the personality Tony would respect enough to find scientific and philosophical balance with.

The afternoon passes in a whirlwind of meetings and introductions. You speak with department heads, researchers, and other key personnel. Each conversation provides tantalizing glimpses into the Foundation's work. While you still feel like you're only in the shallow end, you reason that you’re an outsider and the meetings are fairly brief, so there’s neither the time nor sound reason for them to go too deep with you. Plus, they each have questions of their own for you to answer that take up their own portion of each appointment.

Yelena shepherds you around dutifully, managing to time all your meetings and travel time from area to area with precision. She’s also irresistibly engaging herself as she speaks with you during each break, and you can easily see yourself grabbing lunch with her or drinks after work. She’s exuberant, but she seems naturally attuned to reign in her energy to the level that makes others feel comfortable, and you appreciate that.

As the day winds down, Yelena finally leads you back to the Starlight Room, where you find Natasha is waiting. The late afternoon sun casts a warm glow through the windows, bathing the room in golden light. A tea service has been set up on a small table between you, the delicate China cups and saucers another relic of the past to contrast with the high-tech facilities you've seen throughout the day.

Natasha pours the tea with simplistic grace, the aromatic steam rising between you. "So," she says, her green eyes studying you intently, "what are your thoughts after this afternoon’s meetings?"

You cradle the warm teacup in your hands. "It's been illuminating," you begin carefully. "Everyone I've met has been incredibly passionate about their work. The scope of what the Foundation does is impressive, to say the least."

Natasha nods, taking a sip of her tea. "And do you feel you have a clearer picture of what we do here?"

"In some ways, yes. I have a better sense of the different departments and the general areas of focus.” You pause, considering your words. “I feel I’ve gotten a great sense of the people here, and they’re all extremely passionate about their roles. But there's clearly so much more going on beneath what I've been shown."

A small smile plays at the corners of Natasha's lips. "You're right – there is much more to our work than what we can reveal in a single day. And as we said earlier, some aspects of what we do require… discretion."

You nod, taking a sip of your own tea. The flavor is complex and soothing, with notes of bergamot and something else you can't quite place. "I understand the need for discretion," you say. "But I still feel like there's so much I don't know. About the Foundation, about what my role would be here. It's a big decision to make on such short notice and with gaps in knowledge like that."

Natasha sets down her teacup, her gaze intense. "I understand your hesitancy. Once you’ve officially accepted, I will be able to tell you so much more. So, ask the questions you need to make a decision.”

You frown, knowing you won’t be given answers to your most burning question, but you try and set that aside. In your previous jobs, you hadn’t drilled down to their core philosophies, and you weren’t giving your soul to the organization, so you could reframe what you needed to make this decision.

“In the compensation package, it lists that a housing benefit is available on the premises. What does that entail, and it says ‘available,’ but is that expected, or…?”

This was one of the points that set off your best friend initially to the cult theory.

“Great question. Key roles in the Foundation are offered accommodations here at the estate in one of two wings that we did not see during our tour today - and that was only to respect the privacy of anyone who may have been in their living quarters. There are shared rooms, single rooms, and some small suites for a few positions at the top. If you forego the housing benefit, there isn’t a payout, but a number of our team stay here during the week and then return to their personal residences over the weekends or holidays.”

“Oh,” you’re pleasantly surprised at this explanation. It seems perfectly reasonable.

“Living on site also allows for a flexible work schedule, with some people working a few hours on, a few hours off, and then heading back in - typically with our researchers and scientists who benefit from taking true mental breaks between putting in concentrated work on their projects.”

“In that context, it makes a lot of sense,” you say.

“And then some people just appreciate not having to make the commute every day, we as an employer feel like we’re doing a little something to cut down on commuter emissions, et cetera.”

You laugh, and she smiles.

“What else?”

“This morning you said you were considering me for two opportunities. Do you know now which one you want to see me in?”

Natasha sets down her teacup. “You will be working directly with our founder, James Buchanan Barnes.”

Your jaw drops, but you quickly pick it up. “I – I only applied for an entry-level admin position. I can’t possibly–”

“I train my team to keep their eyes open for certain qualities and alert me to candidates who may seem to have them. You were passed to me with multiple indicators. This is your fourth interview, and an extensive one at that. I couldn’t be more sure I have the right candidate sitting in front of me.”

“But shouldn’t I know what the Foundation does, or, at the very least, have met the founder before I work with him?” you ask, your query perfectly serious, but also tinged with a bit of shock and sarcasm that you can’t stamp out in your current headspace.

The smile on Natasha’s face only grows, and she arches one eyebrow. “If you accept, you’ll meet him tonight, and I’ll work with you so you know everything you need to know and are completely prepared to meet him.”

“How can you be sure I’m the right fit?” you can’t help asking.

She tilts her head slightly. “You met how many of our people today? I know potential when I see it, and I do my homework when I have a hunch. I put that team together, and I’m damn good at what I do. Why would my instincts be off with you?”

You purse your lips together, but her words settle over you in a way nothing else has so far in the weeks this process has taken place from the beginning to now.

Maybe that was the only question you had needed to hear the answer to all along.

You had applied in the first place because you were feeling boxed in at work, hardly noticed, definitely not appreciated – at least not until extra projects or extra work needed to be taken care of, only then did you seem invaluable.

But not here.

Here, it seemed, you would matter.

You’re quiet for another moment, relishing the total calm that has finally settled in your gut. Then you say the two simple words that will alter your future. “I accept.”

Natasha's face lights up, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Excellent," she says, her voice warm with approval. "Welcome to the Winged Heritage Foundation. I'm thrilled you’ve accepted our offer."

She reaches across the table, grasping your hand in both of hers. Her touch is warm and surprisingly gentle, yet you can feel the strength beneath her soft skin. "I have no doubt you'll be an invaluable asset to us, and to Mr. Barnes specifically."

The late afternoon sun streaming through the windows seems to grow brighter, casting a golden glow over the room. The air feels charged with possibility, as if the very atmosphere is celebrating your decision.

"Now," Natasha continues, her voice taking on a note of anticipation, "as Steve and I mentioned earlier, we have a special event taking place this evening. It's not often that we extend invitations for this specific event to anyone outside of the Foundation, but now that you’re officially joining our ranks, that includes you.”

You grin, but then your face falls. “I don’t have anything to wear for a special occasion.”

Natasha stands and tuts at you, “I said I’d make sure you were completely prepared for tonight. Do you think I haven’t already thought of what you’ll be wearing?”

Heat rushes up your neck, and she chuckles, standing up. “Now let’s go. I’ll show you to your living quarters and you can rest and relax for a couple of hours while I take care of some things with our event and sort out final details on your contract.”

You follow Natasha out of the Starlight Room, your mind reeling with excitement and anticipation. The hallways of the mansion seem to glow with a new vibrancy as you pass through them, as if the very building is welcoming you as one of its own.

Natasha leads you to a different wing of the mansion, one you hadn't explored during your earlier tour. The decor here is slightly more modern, though still in keeping with the overall aesthetic of the estate. She stops in front of a door and produces a key.

"This will be your quarters," she says, inserting the key into the lock and opening the door. "At least for tonight, and possibly longer if you choose to take advantage of our housing benefit."

You step inside and your breath catches. It’s a corner room, and it’s spacious and beautifully outfitted, with a large four-poster bed, a sitting area, and floor-to-ceiling windows on two sides. The room is bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, casting long shadows across the polished hardwood floors. The decor is a perfect blend of classic elegance and modern comfort – antique furniture paired with state-of-the-art electronics. Plush rugs cover the hardwood, inviting armchairs and a couch flank a small fireplace, and a sleek desk sits in front of one of the windows, offering a stunning view of the estate grounds.

"This is gorgeous," you breathe, turning slowly to take it all in.

Natasha smiles, clearly pleased by your reaction. "I'm glad you like it. The bathroom is through that door," she gestures to your left, "and the closet is here." She opens a door to reveal a walk-in closet that's larger than most of the bedrooms you've had in the past.

"Now," she continues, her tone becoming more businesslike, "I suggest you take some time to rest and refresh yourself. The evening's events can run quite late and be… intense, to say the least. You'll want to be at your best."

Natasha walks over to the windows, her slender fingers tracing the intricate patterns on the heavy velvet curtains. With a fluid motion, she draws them closed, plunging the room into a soft twilight. The sudden dimness makes the room feel cozy and intimate.

"These curtains are specially designed to block out all light," she explains, turning back to you. "You'll find they're excellent for getting quality sleep, even during the day."

She moves to the bedside table and picks up a small remote. With a click, soft, ambient lighting comes to life around the room, casting a warm, golden glow that's easy on the eyes.

Natasha sets the remote down and turns to face you, her expression a mix of excitement and something else you can't quite place. "Tonight is the full moon," she says, her voice low and rich with anticipation, "and that always makes our gatherings extraordinary."

"For tonight's event, I've selected something I think will suit you perfectly, but don’t worry about that until later. For now, I really do suggest you try and sleep. I’ll be back in a few hours – enough time that legal should have your contract sorted, so I’ll bring that for you to sign, and then we will focus on getting you prepared for tonight.”

You nod, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over you as the adrenaline of the day begins to fade. "Thank you, Natasha. For everything."

She gives you a warm smile. "It's my pleasure. I have a good feeling about you." With that, she turns and heads for the door. Just before she exits, she pauses and looks back at you. "Oh, and one more thing – try not to overthink things. Tonight is about new beginnings."

With those cryptic words, she's gone, closing the door softly behind her. You're left alone in the dimly lit room, the silence enveloping you.

You take a moment to explore your new quarters, running your hands over the soft fabrics of the curtains and bedding. The bathroom is a marvel of marble and black chrome, with a large soaking tub that looks incredibly inviting. But the pull of sleep is too strong to resist.

You slip off your shoes and lie down on the bed, sinking into the plush mattress. The sheets are cool and silky against your skin. As you close your eyes, you take a deep breath, tying to process everything that’s happened – the grand tour, the mysterious conversations, sealing your fate by accepting the position, and now this enigmatic evening event ahead – but before you can think for long, you’re overtaken by sleep.

...CURIOSER AND CURIOSER!

Did you make the right decision?! Too good to be true?

GUESS YOU'LL FIND OUT MORE ON THURSDAY!

NEXT PART: SEMANTICS

[juiceofmoons]

💛🧡 milestone: just passed 1,000 followers! 🧡💛

it still doesn't feel real but thank you so soo much for enjoying my content enough to follow <3333 I made my first moodboard almost a year ago today so I find it crazy how much this blog has grown since then 🤍

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.::･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

To show my appreciation, I wanted to do something for this milestone so I have a few ideas so please request something below if you'd like 🥰

mb: dm me a skz pic and i'll make a mb! or just send me a req idm I love mbs

mb: choose a colour from the colour generator and i'll base an mb around it

gifs/gfx: make me choose (anything skz related eg mv, performance, era, album)

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.::･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

I would also like to mention the following people below who make my time in stayblr so enjoyable whether it be leaving nice comments on my posts or me being in awe of your work orrr me loving the tags you leave on rbs <33 🧡💛I also want to say that I recently made a wall of text 🤗 and I put a little activity there lmao

@15lix @acrobaticcatfeline @agibbangs @atinystraykid @babycatlix @bangzchan @blueprintchan @boba-skz @changbeens @chanstopher @chanrizard @chewysan @euphhorias @geniaparadox @haenglixie @holocenestatelines @hyunebear @hyunfected @hwan-g @j-0ne25 @jeonginny @jerirose @jinniebit @luvrli @minchanz @minzbins @nymeriaaa @shmalll @sstarryoong ⋆｡° ✮@sunnishine @sulfurcosmos @svintsandghosts @ughbehavior @zeroze @yonglixx

and also to the mb babes <33 @missyedits @snug-gyu @ggthydrangea @winterfloral I love our chats even tho I have been a bit busy atm and my timezone is a nightmare :(( but I am so glad I have met you and you're all so talented!! ✧˖°. also missy <33 my first stayblr friend <33 I can't believe it has been almost a year since we started talking ilu good luck with uni <33

also shout out to @seokmingming ⋆｡˚ ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎ gunwook tunnel vision besties <33333

sorry if I have missed anyone <33 pls know I love you and I just have a bad memory with urls :((

[thebestsetter]

He was born to be by your side. It was his greatest desire, what he was meant to do. It's like being next to you came naturally to him, and he can't even remember how his life was before he met you. But what he can remember are the days you both spent together. Ridiculous conversations that, somehow, made so much sense to the both of you. So random, but yet holding so much meaning.

You were both laughing so hard. Walking by the shore, hand in hand. The sunset painting the sky with red and orange. Beautiful. So, so beautiful.

"When we grow up, we'll have a house by the beach" you said, swinging your arms together

"Says who?"

"Says me!"

He grabs your sun hat and puts it on his head, earning a small "Hey!" from you.

"And then we'll buy a cotton candy machine and make lots of cotton candies." He completes your thought while taking the final bite of his popsickle. You clean the side of his mouth (which was all smudged from the cold treat) and smile.

"Yeah, we can do that too."

You used to talk about your future a lot. More than the average couple, actually. Sometimes, you both reunited at your favorite cafeteria just to talk about life. How it was gonna be. How was gonna be your life together.

"A caramello cappucino with apple pie and a mint and chocolate milkshake, please" you said, and just hearing his typical order coming out of your mouth made him smile. Somehow, knowing you memorized his order made him happier than he could put into words.

After he paid (of course, he can't let you pay for your snacks. What kind of man would he be?) you both went to sit on a table right beside a window (you always loved looking out a window while talking, and he knew that. He knew you like the back of his hand). And like you couldn't handle the sound of silence, you started talking (and he'd never complain about it: he loved hearing you talk)

"We can have 3 kids, how about that?"

"I don't like odd numbers. Why not 4?"

"4 is too much" you said, sticking your tongue out and frowning your eyebrows (you looked so cute) "We can have 2, if the problem is odd numbers"

"2 is too little" he argued, and then sighed jokingly "Okay, fine, we can have 3"

You smiled, taking a sip from your milkshake

"Maybe after the third one, we can consider having a fourth, if you'd like"

And you knew he wanted to. Of course he did. He wanted to form a big, happy family with you. He wanted his future to be by your side. He couldn't picture a future without you. Which is why it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all.

"What's your favorite color? Mines yellow"

It hurts. He hates this. He hates this shit so freaking much. His heart feels like it's breaking, and his lungs are gasping for air. He can't look at his date without feelong absolutely sick, like he could literally throw up at the very moment. He can't help but think of you. How you were already talking about how many kids you'd like, and now he's back on the "knowing each other stage". It was so strange not seeing you.

"I'm sorry, please excuse me"

He can't spend a single minute here anymore. He's on the verge of dying, he's sure. And as if his body already knows exactly what makes him feel better, his feet take him to your house without him realizing.

His hand hovers upon the door, ready to knock on it. Life without you is meaningless. He needs you. He loves you. He loves you so fucking much.

"HHAHAHA Stop it!! Love, I swear, tickle me one more time and I will... HAHAHAHA"

He lowers his hand and walks away.

He loves you, that's why he's letting you go. He needs to let you go for your own good. You need to get over him (even though he's sure he'll never get over you)

He can't do this to you. Not when your new boyfriend treats you so well. Not when he fucked everything up. Not when he was the reason why you two broke up. He doesn't deserve you. He always knew you were too good for him. But now, he's doing you this favour to repay you for all the times you helped him. He's not going to disturb you.

Well, back to the talking stage, it seems.

GOJO SATORU, MEGUMI FUSHIGURO, CHOSO KAMO, Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, TSUKISHIMA KEI, Kageyama Tobio, Oikawa Tooru, KUROO TETSURO, TODOROKI SHOTO, Bakugou Katsuki, Aizawa Shota (kinda???), SHINSOU HITOSHI, RIN ITOSHI, SAE ITOSHI, BACHIRA MEGURU, Chigiri Hyoma, KUNIGAMI RENSUKE, REO MIKAGE + any character you think fits this!!

~ A/N: not proofread!!

Masterlist

[silvergyus]

best man and maid of honour being absolutely enemies and hating the living shit out of each other

hate sex at the bachelor/bachelorette parties?

"i hate you" - c.bg

pairing: best man!beomgyu x maid of honor!reader

summary: your best friend is marrying the love of her life, but you can't stand her groom's best man, choi beomgyu. his arrival at her bachelorette party sends you into a rage, one that turns into something more heated than just an argument

warnings: hate sex, semi-public sex (bathroom at a club), dubcon (reader and bg are both somewhat intoxicated), pussy job, unprotected sex, pull out method, spanking, mention of hickeys, hair pulling (bg receiving), use of "baby/ princess/ pretty slut" for reader, insults as foreplay?

word count: 2,800+

part one of wedding season

“How original.” Despite being impossibly close already, he pressed closer to you, more in your space. You felt the heat grow between your legs and swore it was the tequila. “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel then?”

“I hate you,” you spat through gritted teeth.

“Then why are you humping my leg?”

I need to know where you’re having Soobin’s bachelor party

Your text sat unread alongside several other versions of the same message. God, he was driving you crazy.

It’s true that maybe you were taking your duties as maid of honor a little more seriously than you really needed to. You’d heard the wedding planner mutter that it was almost as if you were the bridezilla. But is it really your fault if the bride was your absolute best friend since childhood and didn’t have a party planning bone in her body? Her big day would be completely perfect in every way, you were going to make damn sure of it- which meant that you couldn’t kill the best man, no matter how much you wanted to.

----

You’d never been a big fan of Beomgyu. He was Soobin’s best friend. You adored Soobin- he made your best friend happy and always was kind and considerate of you when you third wheeled- but you couldn’t understand why someone so kind, so patient as Soobin would be best friends with someone like Beomgyu. They were polar opposites. Soobin was quiet; Beomgyu needed to be the life of the party. It was grating. He was too rowdy, too silly, too committed to the bit.

And right now, he was driving you completely crazy with his lack of responses.

You wanted this bachelorette party to be perfect, straight out of a movie. Dinner, drinks, tiny penis straws- a night to remember. Your best friend and her entire bridal party were going to pregame at your apartment before heading to her favorite club. Everyone would buy her drinks and make her feel like a princess until she got too drunk to walk. You’d even pre-ordered the Uber for the end of the night.

You’d planned out outfits and accessories and a perfect itinerary. This Saturday was going to be perfect. Only one thing could put a wrench in your plans, and he was currently leaving you on delivered.

----

Several days, many texts and a few voicemails later, Beomgyu finally replied.

Same day. Quit worrying. I have everything planned

Where though? You texted back immediately. But to no avail. He didn’t even open your reply.

“That asshole."

----

The bass pumped steadily through the speakers, a thumping you could feel in your chest. The night was going perfectly. Photos were perfectly candid, drinks were flowing steadily, not a hair on your head was out of place. Everyone’s dresses were shiny and slutty and looked damn good. Everything was perfect. Just as you planned. You were practically glowing- or maybe that was just a side effect of the tequila.

You were just about to snap another selfie with the bridal party when you heard a warbled “baby!” from across the bar. Your best friend’s eyes lit up as she turned around to see her fiance rushing towards her. Soobin, larger than life, appeared as a blur, scooping her up in his embrace and plastering drunken kisses across her face.

You froze. Fuck! What is he doing here?

The bride was whisked away by her husband-to-be, leaving you at the bar, mouth hung open in disbelief. Everything was perfect. How could this happen?

The culprit behind your ruined night slid into the seat next to yours. Choi Beomgyu, a nasty smirk on his face, appeared in your sight. Your blood boiled. “How dare you?” you hissed.

His face didn't change as he asked, “how dare I what?”

“How dare you show up here? You knew this was my choice for the bachelorette party.”

“Watch your tone, princess, it was literally not my fault.”

You scoffed, pissed at his tone and the pet name. “How is it not your fault that you’ve brought the guys here to ruin my girls’ night?”

“You know how Soobin gets when he drinks,” Beomgyu reminded you. The part of your brain that wasn’t swimming in tequila recognized that he had a point. You and your best friend had laughed more than once at the sentimental calls she received from a drunken Soobin, in his feelings after a few drinks and missing his girl. The part of your brain that just drank a margarita out of a tiny pink penis straw didn’t care that maybe Beomgyu had a point, that part of your brain was just pissed off.

Your mouth moved faster than the logical part of your brain as you cursed him out. How dare he ruin your night? Why would he do the one thing you asked him not to do? You texted him, so, so, so many times. Though you haven’t drank much, the alcohol mixed easily with the swirling emotions to take your anger from zero to ten quickly, and it wasn’t long before heads began to turn in your direction.

Beomgyu grabbed your wrist to pull you away from the bar, away from the curious eyes. You were reluctantly pulled along towards the shadows near the bathrooms. His grip on your arm only made your anger burn hotter. Who does he think he is?

He pulled you to a stop in the single-stall restroom, his hand finding its way to your waist. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he looked you in the eyes. “You need to calm down.”

"Why the fuck are you here? I told you not to come here. I told you so many times and you fucking showed up anyway!"

He sighed, leaning back as he did. “I told you; Soobin asked and I couldn’t say no.”

The light caught his dark hair at this angle, shining through his bangs and illuminating his features. Was he always this good looking?

Beomgyu noticed your pause. “That’s it then? Got nothing to say now? After that scene out there?”

You felt the anger in your blood pick up again. “Don’t act like I’m the asshole here!” You took a staggering step towards him in the tiny space as you raised your voice. “You could’ve distracted him!”

He took a step back, away from your advancement. He tilted his head, resting it against the dark red wall. Your temper stilled in your chest as your eyes fixated on his Adam's apple, on the sharp angle it possessed, how it jutted out from his pretty throat. What was happening to you? Why were you noticing things about him?

“You keep doing that.” His voice was low when he spoke, its trembling bass sent a shiver down your spine. You swore it was just the alcohol that made you squeeze your thighs together.

“Doing what?” Your voice was barely more than a whisper. You weren’t sure Beomgyu could hear it over the noise of the club, muffled but still noticeable in the small bathroom.

He moved towards you, caging you in, pressing you back against the cool stone of the sink. “Getting distracted.”

Your breath hitched as you took in his features. His brown eyes stared at you with something burning below the surface. His cheeks were flushed red from his own night of drinking. His full lips were parted just so, and were so, so close to yours.

You watched him smirk, laughing at you. The spark of anger flashed in you again. How dare he laugh at you? Put you in this compromising position? Take you away from you girls after ruining your night? “There you go again. Am I that distracting, princess?”

“Shut up.”

“How original.” Despite being impossibly close already, he pressed closer to you, more in your space. You felt the heat grow between your legs and told yourself it was the tequila. “Since it's just the two of us here," he leaned in so his breath fanned against your ear as he spoke. "Why don’t you tell me how you really feel then?”

“I hate you,” you spat through gritted teeth.

“Then why are you humping my leg?” His voice was deep and mischievous as he asked, dark eyes glinting with a look that made both your anger and the heat between your thighs swell.

You looked down in horror as he lifted the front of your dress to reveal a wet spot on his jeans. “Look baby, all wet just for me.” He was goading you, and fuck, it was working.

“Shut up,” you said again, shoving his shoulders hard so he stepped back. You followed, pushing him against the dark wall once more. Your hands found his collar as you spoke. “You never listen to me! You weren’t supposed to be here! You always make everything about you!” You were pissed, letting the alcohol bring up the feelings you’ve politely squashed down for months. You wanted him to know what you thought of him, needed him to know that you couldn’t stand to be around him. That he was the bane of your existence and this night was the icing on the cake.

But this close you could smell the cologne he dabbed on his throat, a warm, spicy scent that made your head spin a different way than the tequila did. His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed, tilting his head to look at you and it filled your vision. You suddenly felt very hot and a very strong need to bite it, to mark him up.

“Is that everything? Or is there anything else you want to say?” You met his gaze, dark chocolatey, brown eyes rimmed with pretty lashes. Was Beomgyu hot? How had you never noticed him like this before?

His voice interrupted your thoughts. “Because if it is, I’d like to say that you are the most controlling, tight-wound, micro-managing person I’ve ever met. If it’s not your way, then it’s not right.” He grabbed your hands from his collar as he spoke, holding them tightly as he pushed you backwards until your ass met the cool stone of the sink. “Isn’t that so?”

The action threw you off your guard. He was toying with you in a way you didn’t expect. He was always a tease, but this was much more controlling than you’d ever seen him be. “Answer me.”

“Don’t fucking talk to me like that.”

“Or what?”

He stared at you, eyes burning into yours as you held your face fierce. You had no idea how to answer but you couldn’t back down. Not now, not to him.

The tension broke by way of Beomgyu claiming your lips with his, a swift kiss that shook you out of your competition. His lips were soft, slightly chapped as he nibbled at yours, tongue darting out to ask for entrance. His tongue was in your mouth, filling your head with notes of beer and whisky, a sharp contrast to the sickly sweet tequila that still coated your tongue. Fuck, he tasted good, deep and smoky, it paired so well with his cologne. Your head spun, fuzzy and light. You needed him, needed him now.

His hand groped your breast over the tight material of your dress, squeezing not for your pleasure but for his. His actions were rough, quickly pulling down the thin fabric to paw at your bra. You broke the kiss to gasp when his fingers pulled roughly at your nipple, but Beomgyu didn’t stop. His hands continued to squeeze and pull however they wanted as his teeth nipped at the column of your throat. It was maddening.

You tugged roughly at his hair, drawing a whine as you pulled him away from your neck. Through the haze in your head you could only remember that you couldn’t have any hickeys at the wedding. “Suck here.” You shoved his head roughly onto your chest, throwing your head back in ecstasy as his hot mouth found your nipple.

It was good, so good. Beomgyu made sweet noises against your skin when you pulled his hair, lightly in comparison to the rough tug that brought him to your chest. His mouth was good, but all the attention to your chest left you feeling needy in your core. You pulled his hair again, forcing his pretty lips away from your aching nipple. “Are you gonna fuck me?”

He rolled his eyes, mouth slick with his saliva. “Always so demanding.” He lifted you onto the ledge of the sink, fingers ghosting up your inner thigh. “Does this pussy need something?”

“Shut up and fuck me.”

“No,” he said, mischievous glint returning to his eyes. “Ask me nicely.”

You scoffed. As if.

But he held your gaze, challenging. You looked down to see the tent in his pants, clearly he wanted this too. But he didn’t budge. “Ask me nicely or I’ll leave you here like this.”

“Fuck you.”

He cocked his head. “Is that so?” His movements were quick as he turned you around so you stood, front plastered to the sink ledge. His hands reached beneath your dress to pull down your soaked panties, leaving you exposed, pressed to his back and facing yourself in the mirror. “If you’re not going to ask nicely, then I’m not going to fuck you.” His voice was a low growl in your ear.

A hand held your chest as you felt him unbutton his pants, actions sloppy and uncoordinated with one hand. You bit back a moan as you felt his hot cock press against your ass. He pushed it against your folds, nudging your clit and making you whine.

“Just this until you beg for my cock.” He thrust against you, cock gathering your drooling wetness and gliding, frustratingly smooth against your sensitive core. It wasn’t enough, couldn’t be enough. His cock felt delicious and hot against you, but it didn’t slip inside. You arched back, aching for him to be inside. He chuckled at the motion. “So desperate.” His hand slapped your ass, the sound loud in the tiny room. “C’mon, use your words.”

You shook your head, not wanting to give in, to let him win. He continued to thrust against your pussy, making a mess of the both of you. The tip of his cock snagged against your entrance and you moaned loudly, hanging your head as you gripped the cool stone sink in an attempt to ground yourself. 

He laughed at your display, hand finding your chin and forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. “Look at yourself. Such a pretty slut for me,” he groped your chest as he whispered. The dual sensations of his tip brushing against your clit with every thrust and his fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples was driving you mad. You needed him, you couldn’t stand it. Paired with the soft pants and almost-hidden moans from Beomgyu behind you, you were stuck maddeningly on the edge.

“C’mon, say it. Ask me. Tell me you need my cock.” He smacked your ass again, pushing you into the sink and breaking your defenses.

“Please! Please Beomgyu, please give me your cock! Need it so bad, fuck, just put it inside.”

His smile was devilish as he kissed your throat. “Now, that wasn’t too hard, was it?”

He didn’t let you answer before pushing his cock fully inside you. Slick with your wetness, he went in smoothly, earning a loud moan from you at the sudden fullness. He groaned along with you, eyes crinkling shut as he took in the feeling. “God, this pussy.”

His hips snapped into you messily. Both of you were already so close to your peaks, there was no way that this would last long. His cock hit that spot inside of you perfectly at this angle. It was a sweaty mess of slick and pleasure and you weren’t sure how long you could hold off before crashing.

“Beomgyu,” you panted his name. “I’m close.” His hand reached down, finding your over-sensitive clit and pressing down roughly. “Don’t- don’t cum in me.” You grabbed his hand that gripped the sink. He nodded against your hair, not looking up.

“Cum on my dick baby, cum on my dick and I’ll cum on your ass.” You nodded, anywhere but inside.

He shoved his fingers in your mouth and you sucked, coating them in your spit. They returned to rub quick, hard circles on your clit. Your orgasm struck you like lighting, hot and heavy it poured down on you, splitting your fuzzy head wide open. Your legs shook against Beomgyu and before you were fully through your high he was pulling out to shoot his load across the bare skin of your ass.

The two of you stood there, leaning against the sink for support as you panted, coming down from your highs. Beomgyu’s forehead rested against your back.

You weren’t sure how much time passed before he shuffled away, still close, but not pressed against you. “We should,” you began. He was still beautiful, even after your cloud of rage-induced lust had faded. You cleared your throat. “We should, um, we should probably clean up. Go find everyone.”

His voice was husky when he spoke. “They’re probably wondering where we are.”

Your gaze lingered on him for a little too long before you replied softly, “yeah, probably.”

author’s note: this is a work of fiction not meant to accurately represent the idol. please do not repost.

taglist: @theresawtf, @dearlyjun, @moamidzyism, @miupow

send a message to be added or removed from my taglist!

[milksnake-tea]

❀ ˎˊ- prompt: you've never told sunday you loved him, but you never had to. ❀ ˎˊ- sunday x gn!reader ❀ ˎˊ- wc: 787 ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: vague spoilers for 2.2, mild angst (sunday hates himself lmao) ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: i remembered some random hc that halovians are sensitive to emotions and i woke up in a cold sweat idk if its canon but i like it. anyways happy sunday guys <3 ❀ ˎˊ- img credits

Halovians are the prized jewels of the universe, beloved and admired by many for their elegance, beauty, and elusiveness. But as Sunday’s come to learn, being one of the revered beings isn’t what it’s made out to be.

His halo tingles, little buzzes of electricity shooting across the metal ring and flowing directly into his brain. Sunday flinches at the feeling, although it's hardly noticeable - just a little jump of the shoulders, surprise flashing over his face for a millisecond.

Then comes heat - scorching, smoldering heat that floods over him, embracing and smothering him in its intensity. Instinctively his wings move to cool him down, but the heat is all in his head - physically, he’s fine. But it’s the implication, the knowledge of just what this feeling is that sets his face ablaze.

Ever since he was but a young child, he’d discovered quickly that he could sense the emotions of those around him as if they were his own. Humans were always wearing false faces, putting up a front, but he could always see beyond the mask.

But it was overwhelming - to put it mildly - to be under this constant onslaught of clashing emotions, so eventually, he learned to tune them out, to ignore the waves that his halo received.

And yet, despite all of those years spent learning to block out the emotions of others, here he is, fighting with all his strength to not melt down into a flustered puddle as he walks by your side.

There’s no one else in the Dewlight Pavilion’s garden, so he has no doubt about it - it’s you who’s sending these… feelings his way, and that realization does little to help with his predicament - he’d even say it makes it worse. But Sunday wouldn’t be where he is if he wasn’t able to keep a straight face despite it all.

But he does wonder, how are you doing it? See, Sunday has the excuse of being trained and raised for his role in politics. But you? How could you act so casual, so unbothered, and treat him like any other despite how strongly you… love him?

It breaks a part of his mind just to admit it, but he doesn’t know what else to call it. The warmth that emits from you is the same as that that radiates off of the newly wed couples that come to Penacony for their honeymoon, except you don’t know whether or not your love is reciprocated, nor have you ever considered to ask.

A part of him wishes that you would.

“Sunday?”

He blinks back to reality. You’re smiling up at him, and the pure adoration that exudes from you has his knees weak and his heart jumping. He feels like he’s choking, his breath is caught in his throat and there’s a heavy weight on his chest - but he only smiles reassuringly at you.

“Yes?” he asks softly, taking great care to keep his voice even.

“Are you alright? You seem a little…” You trail off, not sure how to word it. “…off.”

The corner of Sunday’s lip twitches. “Off is… certainly a way to say it.”

Your brows crease further in worry, and he can’t help but laugh good-naturedly.

“Please, don’t worry yourself.” He waves his hand dismissively. “I am fine, but I’m grateful for your concern.”

“Are you sure?” you insist. Sunday smiles warmly.

He feels how much you care for him, how much you wish for him to be happy, to have the most wonderful things. But he can't help but wonder - why? Why him? The parts of you that you devote to him, someone such as himself does not deserve. Not when in his ideal dream, he is destined for a life alone in the sky.

You deserve to love someone else, someone who can properly appreciate what you give him.

Absent-mindedly, his gloved hand comes to brush a knuckle against your cheek. A pleased hum rumbles in his chest as he feels your skin warm and your heart skip a beat.

"Of course," he murmurs. "In fact, I'd say I've never been better."

“If you say so.” You don’t look convinced, but you don’t argue, instead opting to subtly lean into his hand.

Sunday’s eyes soften. Guilt gnaws at him for his indulgence. He should stop, pull away. Leading you on like this wasn’t right. He needed to wake up, and stop playing pretend. The Charmony Festival was almost here - he couldn’t afford to give himself false hope.

And yet, he lingers there, bathing in your affection for a little longer.

If this is his sweet dream, he doesn’t want to wake up just yet.

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

tags: @sh0jun, @themoderatelyawesomeninja, @xphantasmagoriax, @rainswept, @lucensei,

@akutasoda, @naraven, @scribs-dibs, @apathicace

[sunny44]

Happy anniversary

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x wife!reader

Warnings: just pure fluff and English is not my first language.

Summary: Today marks one year since you said ‘Yes’ to the love of your life. The best way to celebrate is by remembering that day as if it were yesterday.

I had planned everything carefully. Our first wedding anniversary had to be special. Charles had always been the man of grand gestures, of emotional surprises, and this time I wanted to do something different. Something that showed how much he meant to me.

I woke up early and went straight to the closet where I kept my wedding dress. That white dress I wore on the happiest day of my life. The memory of that day was still fresh in my mind—the way Charles looked at me when I walked into the church, with tears in his eyes and a smile that lit up the entire place.

I put on the dress carefully, adjusting every detail to make it perfect. I looked in the mirror and, for a moment, I was transported back in time. There I was again, the anxious and passionate bride, ready to say "yes" to the love of my life.

I walked down the stairs slowly, my heart pounding in my chest. Charles was in the living room, facing away from me, engrossed in some work on the computer. I took a deep breath and called his name, my voice trembling with emotion.

"Charles?"

He turned around and, for a moment, was frozen. His eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly, unable to form any words. I saw tears start to form in the corners of his eyes and then roll down his cheeks.

"Y/n... you... you look beautiful," he said, his voice choked with emotion.

I walked over to him, feeling my own eyes fill with tears. "I wanted to relive that moment, Charles. I wanted you to know how much this year has meant to me. Every day, every moment with you has been a gift."

He stood up and came to me, holding my face in his hands. "You have no idea how happy you make me, Y/n. This year has been the best of my life, and it's all because of you."

We hugged there, in the middle of the living room, feeling the connection that had always united us grow even stronger. Charles pulled back a little, just enough to look at me again, admiring every detail of the dress.

"I remember every second of that day," he said, smiling. "The way you walked into the church, the light reflecting off your dress, the way you smiled at me... it was the most beautiful moment of my life."

"For me too," I replied, holding his hands. "And I wanted you to know that every day, I choose you. I choose to love you, to care for you, to support you. You are everything to me, Charles."

He pulled me into another hug, tighter this time. We stayed like that, in silence, letting our hearts speak for us. After a while, he pulled back again and looked at me, with that smile I loved so much.

"Do you want to dance with me, Y/n?" he asked, a sparkle in his eyes.

"Of course," I replied, smiling.

He put on a soft song and pulled me into a slow dance. We twirled around the living room, lost in each other, feeling every heartbeat. At that moment, I realized that it didn't matter where we were or what we were doing. What mattered was that we were together, and that was all we needed.

As we danced, I whispered to him: "I love you, Charles. Always and forever."

He looked into my eyes and replied: "I love you too, Y/n. More than anything in this world."

And so, we danced until the sun set, celebrating not just a year of marriage, but the promise of many happy years to come.

Bonus scene!

Y/nleclerc instagram post

Liked by @charlesleclerc, @pescaleleclerc, @lewishamilton and others 200270

@Y/nleclerc There are not enough words to describe my love for you. When I said “yes” one year ago, I knew it would be the best decision of my life, and I was right. I can't wait to start a family with you and grow old together. I am very excited for the coming years of celebrating our wedding anniversary. I love you today and will love you until my last breath.

Happy 1 year anniversary my love ❤️.

@charlesleclerc Thank you for everything mon amour, your the best thing in my life and I knew you were the one for me since the day I met you. I love you with all my heart and I also can wait to celebrate this day every year with you.

Ps: Let’s talk more about this family thing, I really want a baby

Liked by y/nleclerc

@lewishamilton happy anniversary guys, so nice to see the love you have for each other.

@pescaleleclerc this makes me so happy, please give me a few grandchildren

@charlesleclerc thank you maman and I’m gonna try to give you the grandkids

@user9183 wow it’s been a whole year, feels like a lifetime

[cartierre]

BRUTAL OUT HERE | op81

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU oscar piastri x fem!singer!reader (fc: olivia rodrigo)

side note: the way i used to dislike oscar and now i'm so immensely proud of what he's achieved is crazy. what a character arc of me.

♡ liked by conangray, oscarpiastri, sabrinacarpenter and 238,495 others

yourusername i am beyond the moon happy and proud to announce that my debut album is out now in store and on all music platforms! having worked on this for so long, it feels like seeing my little child grow up 🫶🏻 my team and i invested a lot of time and effort into this and i'm insanely excited for you to experience it. let me hear your thoughts and opinion on this! 💜

view all 7,293 comments

user1 JUST LISTENED TO IT AND I AM NOT OKAY

user2 the way this captures the spirit of being a teenage girl so well ⤷ user3 she literally took my feelings and put it into words it's incredible

conangray i'm so proud of my babygirl comment liked by yourusername ⤷ yourusername ah stop! you helped me so much in the process, huge huge thank you for supporting me 🫶🏻😭 ⤷ user4 i love y/n's and conan's friendship so so much!

oscarpiastri 💜🖤 ⤷ user5 OSCAR?

♡ liked by conangray, landonorris, oscarpiastri and 201,394 others

tagged: conangray

yourusername the last few weeks have been absolutely crazy! i've recieved so much love and positive feedback for 'SOUR' ... i can't even describe how loved and appreciated i feel. i love you guys so much!

view all 6,283 comments

user6 you deserve this so much!! your music makes me feel so many emotions, it's incredible

user7 can't believe how far you've come! been listening to your solos for so long and now you have a whole album aaahh ⤷ user8 remember when she used to upload covers on youtube?

oscarpiastri insanely proud! comment liked by yourusername

user9 oscar is being a bit suspicious these days i don't trust him ⤷ user10 lando is also liking sooo something is brewing in the paddock for sure

♡ liked by conangray, madisonbeer, oscarpiastri and 302,183 others

yourusername my first performance here in melbourne (my hometown) felt so fucking special i'm in tears from how amazing you guys were! my official tour dates are coming soon!

view all 8,283 comments

user11 is it true that you and oscar are childhood friends ⤷ user12 what if they're dating ⤷ user13 what if sour is actually about him?

conangray ahhh i'm so proud of my bestie! comment liked by yourusername ⤷ yourusername couldn't have done it without your pep talk

user14 someone said sour is about oscar and y/n's former relationship? ⤷ user15 is this confirmed?

oscarpiastri what an amazing show 💜 comment liked by yourusername

♡ liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, sabrinacarpenter and 328,283 others

tagged: oscarpiastri, landonorris

yourusername cat's out of the bag thanks to this dingus

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user16 no because it's kinda sweet they revealed their relationship during oscar's homerace (even if it was accidental) ⤷ user17 and her having had her first concert a week ago in melbourne as well (which he attended) like since when is melbourne so romantic like that

oscarpiastri i already told you i'm really really sorry ⤷ yourusername save your apology and gimme a kiss

landonorris great so now i see your annoying asses in real life AND on social media ⤷ yourusername haters gonna hate

user18 but... i wanna know who the album is about then ⤷ user19 real like babes let us knoooowwww

user20 i love childhood friends to lovers aaahh comment liked by yourusername

[educatedsimps]

— they're in love with your laugh

i just KNOW hq characters would be so in love with your laugh like you could literally have ANY type of laugh and they'd fall even more in love with you. this is just how i think they'd react when they hear your laugh or i guess when they realise they really love your laugh? yeah, it's just fluff. enjoy :)

≪ back to fics masterlist

he would say "i love that" out of nowhere. "what?" "your laugh" "weirdo" (but he's a cute weirdo). SHAMELESSLY stares at you with a giddy smile on his stupid lovesick face and literal hearts in his eyes. also if you're like sitting at a table or something, he'd put his elbows on the tables and tuck his hand under his chin while he stares at you. bro is Down Bad Pro Max, trust me.

↳ nishinoya, tanaka, HINATA, oikawa, hanamaki, KUROO, konoha, tendō, ATSUMU, terushima, hoshiumi

he's kinda awkward so he'd just start blushing and smiling secretly to himself. your laugh is like a melody to him and he swears he could listen to it on repeat forever. makes him realise that he's so in love with you and your laugh that he would do anything just to make you laugh like that for the rest of your lives.

↳ KAGEYAMA, yamaguchi, yachi, KINDAICHI, ushijima, kita, sakusa

he's the quiet type who would just look at you with a soft smile when he hears your laugh and he just feels a sudden surge of happiness in his chest. his heart is so full when you laugh and he feels so damn lucky to have you. he know he wants to spend the rest of his life listening to your laugh, which is exactly what he plans to do. also the amount of love in his eyes is UNMATCHED.

↳ asahi, ennoshita, kiyoko, IWAIZUMI, mattsun, kunimi, kenma, AKAASHI, kawanishi, suna, osamu, i can also kinda see sakusa here

he would laugh softly to himself and fail MISERABLY at hiding his smile. so he's just looking at you with the widest, happiest smile on his face and now you're both laughing together, though you don't know why he's smiling so much. neither of you even remember what you were laughing about in the first place and now he can't resist kissing you and showering you with so much affection because he can't believe this ANGEL is actually his. he never thought he could love someone - let alone someone's laugh - this much.

↳ daichi, SUGAAAAA, semi, aran, komori, HIRUGAMI

bokuto's heart feels like it might explode at any moment and he's about to cry with how much love he has for you. you'd probably be standing next to him (also a lil confused) as he's going through an emotional roller coaster just he heard your laugh. "Y/N I LOVE YOUR LAUGH" "my what-" "YOU'RE MY ANGEL, I SWEAR" and cue a fountain of happy tears!

and for you tsukki simps, he'd tease you when you ask him why he's suddenly blushing. "admit it, kei, you like my laugh." "no, i don't. it's annoying." "you loooove my laugh-" "i don't know what you're talking about, y/n." "then why're you blushing, big guy?" "shut up, shortie." would also ruffle your hair before walking away with his face, ears and neck the same shade as a tomato. cute.

a/n: i don't even wanna count how many times i wrote "laugh" in this one like the word's starting to make absolutely no sense to me but i hope you enjoyed it???

© educatedsimps 2024. do not repost, copy, translate or plagiarize any work from this blog on tumblr or any other platforms. if you do, the simps will hunt you down. likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[azrielbrainrot]

To the Last Drop

Pairing: Vampire!Rhysand x F!Reader

Kinktober 2024: Overstimulation

Description: You let Rhysand test your body's limits.

Warnings: Smut, vaginal sex, overstimulation, blood, dum/sub undertones, dirty talk

Word Count: 1,5k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

It started out as any other day with you sitting at the kitchen table, eating your cereal while he drank his blood. In the beginning of your relationship things like that used to freak you out a bit, the smell getting to you sometimes, but you had gotten used to it long ago, and prefered sharing your meals even if they were so different in nature. You were still half asleep, content with listening to his gentle, deep voice as you chewed slowly.

He had been telling you about one of Morrigan and her girlfriend's escapades, about how they quite literally fucked and drank each other's blood until they dropped, and how happy his cousin sounded as she told him about it the night before over dinner. When you told him you should try to do the same one of these days he simply chuckled and dismissed you with a “It's not like I can do that with you.”

Realistically you knew that he meant no harm and that he was right, you were human after all. Rhys had always said that he had to be careful with you, that he couldn't let himself get lost in the pleasure or in your taste in case he took too much or even hurt you. You were more than aware of your body's limitations when compared to a vampire's, but your pride didn't allow you to let go of that comment.

You were thinking about it the whole day, the words repeating over and over in your mind, unable to focus on anything as thoughts about how he would be better off with another vampire consumed you. He noticed it as soon as he came back home too, immediately asking what was wrong. Thinking back now you probably should have explained your feelings properly and let him reassure you instead of insisting you could take anything he gave you and begging him to let you prove it.

“Are you still with me, darling?”

A weak moan escapes you at the sound of his voice, the only answer you could manage in this state. You struggle to even open your eyes, but you can't see his face properly through the tears anyway so there was no use in trying. All you could do in that moment was breathe through the unbelievable pleasure he was putting you through.

Rhys sounded apprehensive when you first told him what you wanted to do, scared he would go too far, but as soon as his cock and teeth slipped inside you all those worries evaporated, a wicked smirk spreading across his face.

“Thought you could take it,” he taunts, violet eyes burning into yours as his hips moved incessantly, a ring of cum forming around his cock from how full you already were, the noises echoing around the room with each thrust sounding downright sinful.

“I can,” you manage to whisper, opening your eyes and blinking away the tears, wanting to appear as strong as you could, too stubborn to admit defeat so soon.

Aside from how many times he had made you cum, and the sensitivity spreading throughout all of your body because of it, you were also a bit dizzy from how much blood he had taken. He only bit you three times if you remembered correctly, and you know he didn't take as much blood as he could have, but it was enough for your movements to become sluggish and thoughts to cloud even further. You should really tell him to stop.

“Are you sure?” You nod immediately, using most of your remaining strength to grab the back of his neck and pull him down for a kiss, somehow still insatiable. He gives into your silent request with a chuckle, kissing you passionately, letting you taste your own blood staining his lips, grinding into you harder just so he could swallow the needy mewls you let out.

When he pulls away, a string of saliva connecting you for a moment, he leans back so he can watch the mess he made of you, studying the bite marks on your neck, already closing up thanks to the venom in his teeth. Usually he only gets to bite you once so he can better control how much blood he takes, but since you were begging him so beautifully, he kept going, biting you on each side of your throat and then closer to your chest, leaving imprints of his sharp teeth on your delicate skin.

The wounds had long since closed up, but there was still some blood that he couldn't drink in time and ran down. A moan escapes him at the sight, wasting no time in leaning down and lapping up every last drop, moving to suck and bite your nipples when he was done, grinding into your cunt all the while, only stopping when he feels you cumming around his cock again, whimpers falling past your lips.

He can't help his smirk from growing when he looks back up at you, unfocused eyes trying their hardest to hold his gaze. You still managed to find enough strength in the middle of all the pleasure to possessively study the blood coating his face, knowing it was your blood that drove him wild.

“You'd do anything for me, wouldn't you?” The immediate nod brings a proud look to his eyes, his chest warming despite the absence of blood pumping through his heart, watching the way you tried to keep up with him, not knowing there was absolutely no way he would ever leave you, especially not because you weren't a vampire. “My little human is so good to me, so perfect.”

He kisses you again, never getting enough of your taste and the feeling of your soft body against his. If you knew just how much he truly wanted you, and the things he would do to keep you in his arms, you probably would run far away from him instead of so desperately trying to pull him closer.

Rhysand could live under your skin and not feel close enough to you, everything about you had always drove him completely insane, which is why he had to be so careful with you. He never imagined a simple comment would result in this, he had wanted to reassure you as soon as the words left your mouth, but the way you were begging him to fuck you and the determined look in your eyes made him snap.

In reality he probably could still go on a while longer, could taste your blood until it ran out and pumped you full until he physically couldn't anymore. You had already passed your limit though, and as pretty as you looked all fucked out and covered in cum and blood, he didn't want to actually hurt you or cause you too much discomfort.

“Just need you to cum one more time, my love,” he whispers gently against your lips, “With me.”

It only takes a few more thrusts and some whispered praises for you to follow his command - as overstimulated as you were it wasn't a surprise. He cums right after you, a shudder running through his body as a broken moan escapes him, trembling at the way your cunt clenched around his cock.

Peppering little kisses around your face and neck, he waits for both of you to properly come down before pulling out as gently as possible, soothing your whimpers at every little touch. He couldn't help but coo at the pretty mess between your legs, licking up the trail of cumming leading to your abused hole and tasting the both of you. You push him away weekly, closing your legs around his head and he chuckles, dropping an apologetic kiss to your stomach before hovering you again, finding you breathing softly with closed eyes, a more than sated expression on your face.

“Good?” You open your eyes at the question, smiling weakly up at him and nodding. “Still breathing?” This makes you glare half-heartedly, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him down so you could bite his lip vindictively. He can't help but smile at how cute you are.

“You know, I love you more than anything right?”

Nodding again, you kiss the same place you just sunk your teeth into. “I know,” you sigh, voice hoarse after the night you had, “I just want you to be happy, don't want you to feel like I'm holding you back in any way.”

“No one in this world makes me happier than you,” he says, leaning down to drop one more chaste kiss to your lips, “I told you before you can't get rid of me.”

“You got it all wrong,” you murmur, tightening your hold on him, “you're the one who can't get rid of me.”

A shiver runs down his spine at the conviction behind your words, how damn near threatening you sounded even while you were holding him so sweetly. Gods, you truly were perfect for him.

[nanamis-bigtie]

morning after

↬ nanami kento, higuruma hiromi, kusakabe atsuya & gender neutral reader ↬ jjk masterlist // ao3 version

a/n: debuting post for the monday afterhours, yay! i'm really excited to start, especially with the topic that's been at the back of my head for a while. i love casual intimacy and i love giving touch starved men the oh moment of their life cw: suggestive themes, implied bottom reader word count: 2.3k

nanami

Nanami is not used to noise and smells in the kitchen so early in the morning. Such disruption of his routine would bother his mood under other circumstances—but now, with the soft sound of your bare feet at the other side of his apartment, it feels only right. Familiar, he would even say, despite the atmosphere of a special occasion lingering in the air.

When was the last time he made breakfast from scratch, he wonders when the door of his bathroom closes behind you. Normally, he would be still asleep at this hour; his alarm would go off in thirty minutes, he would take a necessarily short and cool shower, check emails in case of an emergency, and then head to the 7/11 on the corner, to eat a humble meal of a pre-made sandwich and a cup of coffee from the machine, maybe an onigiri too, if he felt particularly greedy. Today, he barely slept and rose with a crack of the dawn—yet he felt the most relaxed since what seems to be ages to him. He still had the taste of you lingering on his tongue after the night, and decided to savor it until the flavor of cooking he had to test on the way would eventually wash it away. Scratched marks on his shoulders and back stung when he leaned to check what he had in the fridge. His hips, unlearned of moves he had been using on you since you had devoured the takeaway dinner together, ached as he tiptoed to reach the rice cooker, left dusty on one of the highest shelves. His eyes kept the afterimage of your blissed out face over the selection of vegetables and spices he chose for this meal.

When was the last time he was so peaceful?

Nanami finishes cutting the fresh cucumber and tsukemono, pours water into mugs with instant miso soup inside, and finally checks on the rice. It's warm and fluffy, just waiting to be put into the bowls he prepared—the cutest he had, with a long-tailed tit pattern. He brought them from Hokkaido and didn't use them even once, until he spotted them today and decided you would love them.

Rice has to wait; he can't let it grow cold like the sheets you two left behind are undeniably growing. First, he checks on the piece of salmon—a luxury that waited for a day when he could cook again—getting ready in the oven, then cracks a few eggs and beats them well with a pinch of salt and pepper. His stomach growls when they hiss on the red-hot pan—and he can't help but wonder if you're as hungry as him. Things you had in your mouth through the night couldn't feed you, as your corny, vulgar jokes suggested. Nanami rarely smiles but the memory of them and the startled look you gave him as you worried if you hadn't been too much for him has him grinning for a short moment.

When was the last time he felt strain in the corners of his lips?

The omelet is ready in no time. Nanami knows how you like your eggs, but he can't remember how and when he learned about it. He's sipped many details like this from your lips, through the whole year of waiting for the day you crossed the threshold of his bedroom. He was feeding on crumbs for so long... Being full out of the sudden fills his heart with content and anxiety at the same time. He wants to savor this moment, afraid to stomp on the thin shell of happiness too strong, but he knows he's already too addicted to stop. Whatever happens, happens.

And the food can wait only as long. He can't feed you a cold meal.

The hum of the shower ceases shortly after he takes the salmon out of the oven. Nanami listens to the commotion in the bathroom while he finishes the last cuts. Bowls are filled with steaming rice, plates and mugs find their right place on the table. He hasn't cleaned the kitchen—but even if he could do it quickly before you join him, he can't bring himself to disturb this disarray. It looks—it feels—so good to have his place messy at least once, at least today, at least for the first hour you spend together after the night of passionate lovemaking.

His hands still remember the shape of your hips, he realizes when you appear at the entrance, fresh yet still sleepy—and smiling bright at the sight of him by the table.

Nanami doesn't want to ever forget it.

higuruma

Out of the first mornings Higuruma experienced, this one is not the most...extraordinary. But he definitely would place it somewhere at the top of the list.

Seated on the edge of the bathtub, head leaned down, he still feels drowsy. The night was deliciously long and so worth the lingering fatigue in his muscles. He hasn't worked that hard in a while—well, physically at least—and he's undeniably going to pay the price with the top soreness of the last decade. He's more than okay with it...as long as you're not going to ask him for the repetition within the next few days. He's crazy for you—but he's not twenty anymore, and his job squeezes much more energy from him than he would have sacrificed, if he had any choice in this matter. 

Speaking of squeezing—he barely managed to find time to bring you home, for dinner and a movie you didn't even start watching, hungry for something else than a story. And he did so only by nipping time off somewhere else—and by paying the carrying charge now, in his bathroom, awaiting the blind judgment of your skill...or the lack of it, to be honest. He has no idea if you've ever done a haircut before.

But you seem at least familiar with it enough to know how to hold and turn the hair clipper around. Higuruma watches you from the corner of his eye: you're right behind him, scrunching your nose as you're studying the shape of the device and options the various buttons provided. Bare-chested, wearing your pajama shorts only, you secure the towel wrapped around your head with the other hand. It's on the verge of falling apart, some of your hair already got out. He feels an urge to get up and help you tuck it where it should stay but just thinking about feeling it pushes blood where he really doesn't want it, if he wants to leave for work on time. He had his share of touch a few hours ago, stroking and playing with your locks as you had your sweet lips wrapped around his cock.

He's ruined the position when trying to take a better look, so you gently nudge him to lean fully again, a brush of your warm palm enough to have hair on his forearms standing. He had your hands all over him for hours, pulling him close, securing him next to you when you both finally collapsed into well-deserved sleep, so he could swear he's learned your touch enough. 

But now...it's different.

You run fingers through the hair at the back of his head, testing the line you want to cut—and Higuruma is melting. He has to clench hands on the edge of the bathtub to stay collected; the last thing he wants is to get scolded and deprived of your digits slowly threading through his locks. You mumble something about being jealous of how thick they are and something about how badly he needs this cut—but all he can think of is how your voice is so raspy after moaning out his name over and over again. He wonders how your mewls would sound with this tone but thoughts evaporate from his head as soon as they've appeared, this time with the steady buzz of the clipper.

So the sound can be ticklish, such a weird sensation...

You're quick and as precise as only you can be at six in the morning, scrunched over his back in a rather tight space. You cut his hair just enough to keep him somewhat tidy for the few days before he can see an actual hair stylist; there's no time for more and Higuruma doesn't want to make it too much of a struggle for you. Even if it was his own request, he immediately regrets it when you're finished with brushing the cut dust off his neck and shoulders. It's such a pity you have to abandon him and rush with your own preparations. If only you had more time...

Right as he's straightening his back, you touch him with both hands, fingertips scratching lightly at the freshly shaved part of his head, right at the point where it meets his neck. Warmth explodes in his chest—and Higuruma lets out a low, needy growl. It's good, so good, oh gods, just touch him more, just do it one more time, he hasn't had anything like this for so long...

Humming, you move towards the longer strands, then down the sides of his face until you're cradling it between your palms. You tilt his head back and pull him close, until he rests it against your exposed, warm belly. Dry sob shakes his whole body and tears prick at the corners of his eyes—but Higuruma can't bring himself to close them or at least to look away. He's begging for your attention like starved and he's not ashamed.

All he wants is for you to never let go of him.

kusakabe

Holy shit.

Kusakabe didn't get a wink of sleep through the whole night—and the fact that he doesn't have anything to do for the day to come doesn't help the case. He always had problems with falling asleep after sex, but he thought the long break since the last time and, well, the overall busy period in his life would crumble this irritating habit by sheer force of exhaustion. He's as good at taking an accurate measure when it comes to love as he is with dozing off, it seems.

You're sprawled by his side, lying face down and on his arm, butt-naked with the exception of the blanket loosely wrapped around your leg and covering half of your ass. You've taken his share of sleep since you collapsed as soon as he rolled to his side and reached for wipes to clean you both, much to his amusement—and horror once he realized he was sentenced to his thoughts alone for the hours to come. Your smell, soft, twangy breathing, and warmth is just helping them race now. Your weight, pressed tight from his wrist to shoulder, keeps him in place too, cutting any attempt of shameful retreat short. It's nothing he wouldn't be able to move, he's carried you around not once and not twice and it meant nothing to his strength, but he dreads to wake you up.

You deserve that rest after taking his pent up tension over and over again. And he really has no idea what to say to sound appropriate.

Good morning? Good job? Did you sleep well? I love you?

Kusakabe groans and does another trip around the room with his eyes only. The more light sips through the loosely drawn curtains, the more details he could pick up, and shame already pricks at his cheeks. He couldn't remember the last time he cleaned around properly but even if he had it squeaky clean for the night, the area just screamed: a confirmed bachelor. Well, at least there's no trash lying on the floor or furniture, but he could easily pick up the smell of cigarettes and a badly aired room. None of it mattered when you tussled in darkness, sucking sloppy kisses from each other's lips and peeling clothes off your bodies. But once you wake up and take a look around—Nope, he doesn't want to think about it. That's a problem for Kusakabe from in-a-few-hours-future.

He rolls head to the other side, ashamed to even look at your sound asleep body, and stares right at his shirt, casually thrown over the bed stand. He doesn't have to look at it to know it definitely has its best days behind it. He could at least wear something presentable when seeing you for that unplanned job, hasn't he learned anything from his past relationships? Maybe he did, but it was so long ago he wasn't sure anymore if his sloppiness was ever addressed. His chain-smoking, however, is a different story.

Holy shit, he really needs to smoke.

Kusakabe knows there's a spare cigarette and a small pack of matches hidden in the little pocket of his shirt, this very shirt within his reach. Carefully, he scoots to the side and reaches for it, fingers already brushing the sleeve, just an inch more, just a little...

You mumble his name and shift, sheets rustling around your legs. Kusakabe freezes, sure he's finally done it and woke you up, but you just adjust your position, face turned to him, and continue with your softest snores. You're all messy and exhausted, in need of a shower even more than his room is in need of tidying. With amused relief pushing his worries out of his mind, he reaches out and gently strokes your hair.

You repeat his name, with a mewl dangerously close to what you screamed into his ear a few hours ago.

Out of the sudden, the thought of smoking by your side has him disgusted. You're going to wake up to this mess, to crumbled sheets and clothes all over the place and dying plants and papers lying on the floor in piles—and he wants to add smoke right into your eyes? You deserve better than that. You deserve him to be better than that.

Hell, he's been thinking about it for a while anyway. Maybe if he remembers your face from now, so calm and smiling through your dreams, it will be easier for him to finally quit.

thank you so much for reading ❤ i'll be really happy, if you reblog it and/or leave some feedback! you can read more of my jjk fics here.

tag list: @lale-txt @mirkaaaluv @ohnococo @clumsyraccoon @honey-deku

[weird-is-life]

steve request🩷🩷

soo reader is drunk and at a party. maybe someone at the party calls steve who is her bestie to come pick her up. he’s out with eddie, robin and nancy at the time and they go and pick her up. because she’s drunk she’s so clingy with steve and doesnt want to be away from him and the rest of the gang make fun of him for it. he loves it really tho🩷

Ty for the request, lovely💕! Hope this is okay, warnings: fluff, use of pet names, mentions of parties, drinking, getting left alone by friends at a party, (0.6k)

Steve finds you sitting with your head down on the stairs of the house. The closer he gets to you, the louder the music is and he winces as he remembers how he used live for these kind of parties.

Now looking at you, he can only think of it as something he hates. Sure, the dancing, the drinks are fun, but getting left alone by friends isn't. Steve can't even count, how many times he was left alone at some party. It's too many.

He hates that your friends left you alone, but he's glad you called him, because he can now make sure you're gonna be okay.

He approaches you carefully, so he doesn't scare you, "Hi, sweetheart."

You immediately cheer up, lifting your head up quickly. You smile big at him and basically throw yourself around his neck, almost knocking him to the ground.

"Woah, woah, I'm happy to see you, too," Steve chuckles and hugs you back.

"Stevie, what are you doing here?" you ask happily. You called Steve to pick you up, which you clearly don't remember anymore.

"I came to take you home," he tells you amused, "c'mon let's get you moving."

Steve stands both of you up and you don't let go off of him, even as he starts to walk you to the car. And he's okay with that, he doesn't mind, that you've leaned with almost your entire weight against him.

What gets him a little flustered are your words. You start whispering all kind of nice words, compliments to him, that he's sure, you would be too shy to say sober.

By the time, you get to the car, Steve's cheeks are burning. He curses under his breath, because he knows, he's going to be teased even before he steps a foot into the car.

And he's right. Straight away Eddie, Robin and Nancy grin at him. You notice the three of them and smile drunkenly at them.

"Hi guys, you came, too?" you ask as you plop yourself without a care in the world next to Robin sitting in the back seat.

"Hi babe, " Robin greets you, while Steve squeezes in the seat next to you.

Your attention immediately goes from Robin back to Steve. You slide closer to him, as close as you can and you almost end up sitting in his lap. They all laugh at that.

"I missed you, Stevie, " you whisper, or more like you tell him very loudly, so the whole car hears it. Steve chuckles, because you were together few hours ago.

"I missed you, too." Steve tells you and puts one arm around you. You snuggle impossibly closer to him.

"I didn't sign up for this cuddle session, when I agreed to drive," Eddie mutters from the front of the car.

"Sorry, Eds. Did you want a hug, too?" you ask innocently.

"No, no, it's okay, you just keep hugging Steve. Lord knows how much he loves it," Eddie teases Steve again and Steve just glares at him. But it's true. He loves being close to you, maybe it's because he loves you. And maybe he'd get to hold you close more often, if he had the guts to confess his feelings to you.

"I love it, too, Stevie," you state and hide your face into Steve's front. It takes you only a few minutes to fall asleep, completely at ease in Steve's arms.

Steve can only smile and hold you tightly, as the blush comes back to his cheeks. He ignores the teasing smirks and looks from everybody.

Steve will survive the teasing, if it means he gets to hold you close. Anytime.

[luveline]

whenever youre free!! can you please write a spencer x reader where we meet spencer during an early season where he’s still cute and awkward maybe we date too but something happens and we don’t see him for a long time only to meet him again when he’s older and hotter (post prison) and there’s still crazy tension after all those years. in love with your writing btw!!! ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

tysm for requesting! hope this is ok :D ♡ 1.2k

cw vaguely suggestive theme

Looking at Spencer, you could almost think you were fresh out of college again, unsure of yourself and in need of a friend. 

He'd been much more than a friend. It's why you're here. 

The cake might have been a bad idea. You hold it between two hands, the subtle smell of chocolate rising from the box's ill-fitting lid. Your breath catches, words coming out wonky, "Hey. Spencer?" 

He looks up from his book, startled at being found, you think. "Y/N?" 

He looks the same. 

Obviously, he's older. He has facial hair and his curls are styled rather than having been left to their own devices, but you feel as hopelessly enamoured with him as you had years ago, because he still smiles like a puppy dog.

You're twice as surprised as he is when he stands from his coffee table to hug you. The cake box wobbles in your hands as he squeezes you, swaying you from side to side, his laugh warm in your ear. 

"What are you doing back here?" he asks, diving backward to see your face. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again." 

"I still had JJ's number, you know, from when I wanted that address, and she texted me to say you'd been released, and I," —your voice curls tighter, are you talking too much?— "know you might not want to hear from me, but I was worried about you. You were my best friend." 

His smile flickers. You press the cake into his hands. 

"That's for you," you say. 

Spencer's wavering smile turns to the box. He sets it down on the table beside his coffee cup and tented book, removing the lid carefully. You remember suddenly how nice his hands are, and the tracing of his fingertips down your bare shoulders. Goosebumps erupt along the ghost of his touch. 

"Well done on not being a criminal," he reads, snorting. "Funny. Little too soon." 

You feel like your stomach's fallen out, but he drops the act with another laugh. 

"Oh, you're still a jerk," you say. "I'm glad something hasn't changed." 

"You think I've changed?" he asks. 

"You didn't get any taller, if that's what you're asking." 

Spencer's smile turns fond. It's the sweet, sticky smile he'd always give you before he'd tell you he loved you, or that you were the best best friend ever. Or that last night, when you followed him hand in hand down the long hallway to his bedroom. 

"I wasn't that much of a jerk, was I?" he asks. 

"No, you weren't." You hold your hands behind your back. "Could I join you? Just for a bit?" 

"You brought me a cake. I can't say no, can I? Of course you can sit down. I'll get you a coffee, okay?" 

He touches his hand to your arm as he passes. You sit down in the seat across from him, sick with what-if and should-have. What if I could've stayed? Maybe I should have done more. But when Spencer ignored the letters you sent him while he was incarcerated, you figured you'd done more than he wanted. The cake was a last ditch effort, spurred on by JJ's text that read, I think he'd be really happy to see you. 

Spencer puts a china cup down in front of you. You take a sip, muscle memory, and grin at him shyly as he slides into the seat across from you. "You remembered." 

"I remember everything." 

"Right. Your photographic memory." 

"Eidetic, and sure, but I wouldn't forget about you." He reads your shyness for what it is, worry you've overstepped. He's too perceptive to trick. "I think I tried, but… I have so many bad memories, I wanted the good ones to keep." 

You can't imagine the things he experienced in prison. JJ couldn't tell you much. You knew from how you had to address his letters alone that he was sent to a general correctional facility in Mexico, rather than the protective custody he'd needed. He doesn't look terrible considering, but you've barely seen him since you had to leave. He's aged well. The only worry is his dark under eyes. 

"We had a good time," you say gently. "I knew you'd need that. That's why I sent you all those letters, you know? I wasn't trying to come back into your life, I know I don't deserve it after I left, but I couldn't stop thinking about you by yourself." 

You stare at his book. 

"How many letters did you send?" he asks. 

"I don't really remember." 

"I didn't get one." He grimaces. "I didn't get any from my mom, either. Think it was a coincidence?" 

Spencer's time in was kind of sick. He stabbed himself, made friends with criminals, played a lot of chess, and learned how to make tacos in a doritos bag. It was also arguably the loneliest and most degrading time of his life. 

One coffee becomes two, two becomes a third to go. You feel a hundred emotions but there's one that stands out the most as you drift around Pentagon City with him —wanting. You want him to be your best friend again, to rub your back and hold you when you're tired, to take you grocery shopping in his beat up P130. You want him to kiss you like he had, like he was searching for something, but he's changed so much that you don't know if your Spencer is still in there, under everything, or if he'd even want to.

"You live in the same apartment?" you ask. 

"Can you imagine how much it would cost me to move that many books? Paying the rent turns out cheaper," he says, the two of you walking in the grey street. "What about you? You didn't come all the way here to see me." 

"I actually did." You rub up the length of your upper arm, sheepish. "I did, Spencer." 

For a while, all you can hear is the plastic rustling of the bag held in his hand. 

"Thank you for writing to me. I didn't get to read them, but it makes a difference." 

You lift your head to meet his eyes. He holds your gaze, a charge behind his dark brown eyes. You used to think his irises and his pupils were one and the same, but you can see now that there are flecks of light in his irises. His hedging of thick lashes kiss in the corners as he slowly, slowly smiles. 

You glare at him. "Don't." 

"Don't what?" 

"You know what. You're doing that thing. Pretending you're not trying to make me nervous." 

"I'm not doing that. Flustered, but not nervous." Is he smirking?

"Flustered," you repeat, your smile stupidly big now, cheeks aching. "Yeah, right, Reid."

His pinky brushes yours. You don't have any proof that he's doing it purposefully, but he is. 

"Do you want to get something to eat? You can tell me what you were writing in your letters. I'd really, really like to know." His voice is threaded with a familiar timidity for the first time since you reunited. 

There you are, you think happily. "Sure. You buy me a sticky bun from our old place and I'll tell you all my written secrets." 

"Deal." 

[muniimyg]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ chaebol!jungkook (4) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ *nsfw*

series m.list // taglist closed.

note: have safe sex & don’t be like these two <3

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @pamzn @defzcl @maryy1300 @whoa-jo @taetaecatboy @jksusawife @un06 @firesighgirl @rrosiitas @butterymin @parkinglot-nights @musicjournalsjdb @kissyfacekoo @jkslvsnella @vampcharxter @bloopkook @kekerrreke @somehowukook @bbystarcandykoo

monday

jungkook comes home around lunch time. no words can describe how happy he is to see you half asleep on his couch with bam curled up with you. it's weird. his heart has never matched the pace of his dick before.

he wakes you up by joining you. as he lays his body on top of yours, you wrap your arms around him. he snuggles in closer, leaving kisses on your neck. "what'd you tell your husband?" he murmurs. you sigh as you play with his hair. "told him i went to visit my cousin, jiun."

he nods along, "that makes sense. didn't she just give birth like three months ago? three months is a good time to visit a new born." you're shocked by his memory. "how'd you remember—"

jungkook laughs hearty as he sits up and pulls you with him. "you wouldn't let me cum in you for like two weeks then. got all paranoid about having my baby or some shit."

you shrug. "having your baby wouldn't be so bad."

jungkook's eyes dim. "if you didn't have a husband, right?"

tiptoeing, you plant a kiss on his lips. "aren't you my husband?"

that night, jungkook fucks you like you're the only thing that matters to him. he missed you so much that he had no time to buy condoms. his heart goes on overdrive when you tell him it's okay. you say, "you can fuck me raw. i wanna know how you feel... give this to me, okay? give me all of you."

so he does. in so many ways, he gives you himself.

tuesday

the morning starts off with sex.

the coffee you brewed for the two of you goes cold as it sits on the nightstand, untouched. tangled in his bedsheets, you can't help but giggle at every gentle touch he places on you. it's different. sex with him has never felt like this before. it feels like lightning.

jungkook shoves his cock inside you for the nth time, causing you to squeal. as he towers over you, you moan at the sight of his chain dangling. you feel every inch of his cock pump inside of you, each stroke hitting your g-spot. it's so insane. like, you've never liked sex so much before this. before him.

in the back of your mind, you wonder if you can ever let this go. could you ever forget about this? how tuesday morning sex feels like with the man that you're practically forbidden to be with?

it doesn't matter.

right now, it's him. he's the only thing you see and feel... and he feels like a dream.

as the day goes on, jungkook does a lot of sweet things you never expected him to do. he helped dress you. he started you a bath. he made you lunch. he asked you a lot of questions about your family, ultimately trying to get to know you more. at one point, he looks at you a little too fondly.

"what's with the look?" you ask, hiding your face with your hands.

jungkook moves them, bringing them to his lips. kissing your hands, he looks at you with the sweetest eyes. "you're... evergreen. you know that? you blow my mind. that's all."

you cover up the fact that your heart melted by smirking and taking his hands back. "yeah, yeah... you know what else i can blow?"

wednesday

jungkook can't say he hates this.

you tied him up and spent the past hour edging the shit out of him. between you two, your sweat and pre-cum could fill buckets. he loves the way you're out of breath. he loves the way you're gliding your pussy against his dick, struggling not to cum.

"j-just put it in, wifey." you feel shivers go down your back as he calls you that. "fuck me like you love me."

you freeze.

"like i what?"

jungkook hisses. "s-shut up."

you shake your head. "no. say it again."

jungkook struggles with the rope. "untie me."

"no. say what you said again."

"why don't i show you instead?"

that's all it takes. you untie him and he fucks you like he loves you. as you cum and feel him throbbing inside of you, you want to say it. you want to make a confession. instead, you mumble his name in between kisses and hope he simply knows.

thursday

jungkook spends most of his day at work. he textes you a million times, acting all clingy. you text him back with the same energy and enjoy your day with bam. you clean his penthouse a little and start on dinner.

you make his favourite.

when he comes home, his fatigue posture goes away the instant you greet him at the door. "jungkook?" you peer out of the corner, bam following you.

"hey," he smiles, collapsing into your embrace. "d-did you cook? it smells like—"

"yeah," you flush. "i did. i also made seaweed soup."

"it's not my birthday," he laughs, taking his shoes off. he holds you by the waist, guiding you to the kitchen. over the stove, he watches as you lift the lids off the dishes.

"i saw your calendar when i was tidying your study. your birthday was a few months ago but the date was empty? you didn't celebrate with anyone, did you?"

jungkook blinks at you.

"so i made you seaweed soup. at the very least, we can celebrate together. i hope that's okay—"

jungkook kisses you.

then, he fucks you against the kitchen counter. against his kitchen island, he has you bending over. at one point, you jump on him, legs wrapped around like it belongs there. he brings you to his couch, and lifts your legs. jungkook eats you out for a good hour. he plays with your pussy, switching from fucking you to fingering you until your squirt. when you do, you stain the cashmere throw blankets he has on his couch. it's okay. he'd display them if he could.

jungkook has your legs in the air for so long, they hurt so bad. to soothe them, he runs you both a bath. sitting in his bathtub together, you two giggle uncontrollably over the bubbles and bath salts. you two are so close. so intimate.

he kisses your shoulders. he kisses behind your ear. he kisses every part of you that he can.

by the time you two clean up, the meal you prepared is cold. as you put on your pjs, jungkook reheats the food. you join him by wrapping your arms around him, hugging his back. his heart is filled with so much love as you two sit down and eat together. you feed him a few bites of the soup, sing him happy birthday, and cuddle him to sleep.

that night, he hates your fiancé the most.

friday

jungkook invites his friends over.

at first, you're nervous. completely confused why he would do such a thing, but when you meet them.. you get it. they're all so funny and sweet. it confuses you how jungkook has such a douchey personality when he has such amazing friends.

"i've never seen him like this," his friend jimin comments. "he explained the whole thing to us... and obviously, we've been begging him for months to give up and stop bothering you... but after meeting you; i get it. if i were him, i'd hate your husband too."

you don't know what to feel. a part of you is upset that jungkook would talk about your life with others but another part of you can't help but feel flattered.

when his friends leave, you pick a fight.

jungkook doesn't yell. he apologizes instantly and tells you that he would kill his friends if they ever outted you. you take his word for it, but still hate the feeling.

"make up sex?" he suggests.

you roll your eyes and shove his chest. "get over yourself, you big mouth, ignorant chaebol kid—"

jungkook grabs a hold of your wrists and pulls you close. he throws you over his shoulders and takes you to the bedroom where he shows you just how sorry he is.

you accept his apologies 5 orgasms later.

saturday

jungkook makes an effort to make sure you aren't seen exiting his penthouse. he hires security and makes sure your husband isn't around. for the first time ever, jungkook takes you on a date.

he brings you to an outdoor movie. it's set up on this little hill that overlooks a field of flowers. he tells you that it's his grandmother's field. that he grew up running through them with his brother and one time, he got stung by a bee. he refused to come back ever since.

"why are we here then?" you ask, feeling a little bad at the memory he has.

"they're pretty," he answers simply. "you're pretty. it made sense."

you smile at him. tilting your head, you kiss him. he chases your lips when you pull away. moving closer to him, you lean against him. he holds you as close as he can, watching the sunset and wondering if this is how it will feel like forever.

if every flower field and every sunset from here on out will remind him of you.

sunday

he was dreading for this day to come.

he hoped the world ended by now... because it will. the moment you walk out his door tonight, it will.

jungkook is an angel the entire day. you two wake up slow as the sun shines through his curtains. you two have a quickie in bed. you make brunch together. lazily cuddle on the couch and watch each other's favourite movies.

just like that; it's over.

he looks for every excuse in his head. he wonders if he should just print the divorce papers for you already—but that didn't make any sense. you weren't even married to him yet.

he still had a chance.

jungkook thinks fast. he wonders if he should do it. if he should take his grandmother's ring out from his nightstand and offer it to you. he should, shouldn't he?

then, just as he's about to excuse himself to get the ring—your fiancé calls. you pick up after the second ring.

"hey, love..." you say gently, offering jungkook a smile and excusing yourself to his study.

he curls his fists and wonders just how selfish he could be. he concludes that it doesn't matter. if he could have you—he'd give everything else up. he'd do it. he really would.

but when you come back, your warm eyes break his heart.

"what'd he say?" jungkook asks, breaking the silence.

"he asked how my trip was going. he asked when i'd be coming home... and if we could move the wedding up."

jungkook's heart breaks.

"up by how much?"

you gulp. "next month."

he has no words. all he does is nod and back away. you move forward, wrapping yourself around him.

"we have a few more hours left," you comfort him. "let's be together for a little longer.. okay?"

he looks at you, utterly conflicted.

then, you kiss him and his mind clears.

you'd win.

no matter what he says or does, you'd win. you'd win him, you'd win your fiancé. but fuck that because it doesn't matter who you choose. you'd always have jungkook.

he kisses you until you're out of breath. he fucks you in such a fulfilling way, you swear you see stars. it's so different from the other times. it's loving. it's wishful. every handful of your breast he squeezes, every lick of your pussy, and every thrust he shoves his cum in deeper inside of you—it's mesmerizing. it's unforgettable. it's everything you've ever wanted and ever thought to want.

jungkook gives you everything. every plea you whimper, every kiss, and every touch in between you two—he tries his best to remember.

jungkook fucks you like there's no tomorrow.

because there isn't one.

this was the end.

[3rachasdomesticbanana]

The Bet | Bang Chan

•Synopsis: After losing a bet with your boyfriend, your penalty is to do whatever he says that night. But what sort of penalty does he have in mind in the middle of a nightclub and why are crotchless panties involved?

Who would've thought losing a bet would be so much fun?

•Pairing: au Bang Chan x Female Reader

•Content Includes: Heavy smut, Established relationship, Public unprotected sex, slight Restricted movement, Soft Dom Chan, Minimal fluff, Crowded area

wc:3k+

an: edited but might still contain some errors

Want more smut? Follow the banana 🍌

“Remember the bet, baby girl.”

Your boyfriend Chan whispers in your ear making you shiver.

You're innocently sitting on his lap in the VIP section of an upscale nightclub somewhere in downtown DC. The club pulses with energy as the heavy bass reverberates through the sleek, dimly-lit space. The air is infused with the scent of expensive perfumes and colognes, mingling with the subtle aroma of alcohol and cigarette smoke.

Smooth leather couches, separated by a red velvet rope line the perimeter of the dance floor, offering cozy spots for groups like our own to relax and chat amidst the excitement. The group of friends you two came with, move with confidence on the dance floor in front of you bathed in hues of deep purples and blues. Hip-hop, EDM, and R&B classics fill every corner of the room. You nod at your boyfriend's words believing he wouldn't go through with the penalty of the bet you lost against him.

Why you bet him that you could deep throat him without gagging wasn't the smartest thing you've done. Chan is far too thick and lengthy to take every inch without gagging even a little when he hits the back of your throat with the swollen head of his cock. Now you wait in a short black leather pleated skirt with a pair of crotchless panties underneath waiting for his command. With every drum his finger plays on your hips you feel your body respond to him. Little touches here and there make you fully aware of all the places his hands and fingers linger on your body. From your back, through the exposed slit down your blouse to your navel. He touches every bit of flesh he can without the movements looking indecent.

There's possibly over a hundred people inside the club and that's just on the floor you're on, there's two other floors below you. You feel certain Chan won't do anything too drastic around all of these people, that he just wants to tease you and keep you on your toes. Though with this man you've been with for years now, you can't ever put anything past him. He's capable of doing so many things others would never dream of doing. If he wants something then nothing will stop him from his goal. It was that way when you met through your boyfriend at the time. He was a toxic asshole and Chris knew he could treat you a thousand times better than he ever could. So he proved it to you every chance he got. Won your heart and eventually your mind, body and soul. You've been happy ever since. Everyday was an adventure with him, full of spontaneity for you, yet carefully thought out in his mind.

So when you feel him lower the zipper of his designer black ripped jeans you're not really surprised. You aren't prepared for him to wrap his arms around your midsection though. In one quick move he pulls you back against his chest and you yelp in surprise. The movement frees his cock from the opening in the front of his boxers. It springs up and out, resting against your ass. Your eyes go wide, your mouth agape and you're at a loss for words. It would take one shift from you for him to slip between your thighs or inside of you. As if he can read your mind, Chan settles his palm flat on your thigh with just enough pressure for you to understand him without words. Doesn't stop him from whispering in your ear though, knowing how his breath on your neck will affect you.

“Don't move baby. Not until I say so. This is a penalty remember… not a reward.” He smirks, proud of himself for this brilliant idea.

Chan is loving this little game of his and he wants to drag it out for as long as he can but the feel of your soft supple ass flushed against his hard length makes him feel like a mad man. He wants to ram himself inside of your sweet slippery walls and plow himself into you until you're creaming all over his cock and dripping down to his balls. He flexes the stiff muscle and grins wickedly when you groan softly. How long can he repeat that move until he feels it inch further and further away from where it rests? until it plops into your needy cunt? He wonders to himself. Maybe if he calculates it right he can make it so his cock doesn't find its way inside of you just yet. He'd love to fuck your thighs for a little bit. Feel you squeeze him with those thick fleshy thighs that he loves.

While you're sitting as still as possible forcing yourself to look as if nothing is wrong, Chan plots behind and underneath you for more ways to tease you like this. Momentarily you're both pulled out of your inner thoughts and intimate bubble when a couple of your friends come over to the table to hydrate and to get you two onto the floor to join them dancing.

“Come on bestie dance with us! Hannie keeps stepping on my feet.” Your best friend exclaims setting down her drink and side eyeing her boyfriend.

“Hey hey that wasn't my fault Minho bumped into me. I'm being framed.” Han puts his hands up in surrender.

You're laughing at the couples playful bickering in front of you but you can feel Chan’s erection twitch again as your laughter rocks your body.

“You two go ahead, you know Chan and I like vibing and watching you guys have fun. We'll join you before the night's over.” You smile in their direction and Chan's does it again.

This time flexing his cock three times making it bounce under you until it slips through your thighs briefly brushing past your clit. Your eyes go wide and you gasp. Very quickly you pretend to sneeze covering your mouth with your hands.

“Bless you baby.” Chan says and you can hear the smile. “Why don't you two show us exactly how to have fun yeah? See if we can compete with you guys later.” He adds over your shoulder and whatever Han sees on his buddies face he's taking your friends hand and pulling her away from the lush VIP area.

He chuckles watching the pair disappear into the crowd and pushes up off the couch as if he's trying to get comfortable but the move only rubs your aching clit with the side of his stiffness. Every vein and ridge brushes the nub making you squeeze your legs together which is exactly what he wanted.

He groans softly before he whispers in your ear, “No moving remember?” and you groan in frustration.

“Please Channie. I'm so wet can't you feel how bad I need you?” You whine, turning your head to look at him.

His coffee colored eyes glitter when they find yours. His full lush lips part and he runs his tongue over them. When you bite down on your own lip you feel him again and you know he's just being stubborn in not giving in and filling you up.

“Because you said please. Slowly scoot up forward to grab your drink off the table and then back down.” He instructs and you nod turning back around.

Your drink, a mix of pineapple and cranberry juice sits in front of you on the oval glass table with beads of condensation dripping down the sides. Stretching your arm out, you slowly inch forward feeling Chan sliding down between your folds becoming slick with your juices. Your hand makes contact with the glass and when you slowly move back to how you were you feel him stretching your cunt wide each inch you push back onto him. The sensation is heavenly and you want to take your time. To enjoy the feeling of him finally inside of you but Chan is an inpatient man and he’s gripping your hips, pulling you back with such force that your drink splashes over the surface and onto the floor. You inhale sharply clutching the glass tighter than you normally would on a normal night out.

If you thought the feeling of Chan inside of you was heavenly, he'll describe it as exquisitely delectable. God he loves it when he bottoms out inside of you, loves it when you take all of him so well. He'll push himself even further though there's no where left for him to go just to hear you whimper the way you are now.

“Shhhh baby, that's it. Fuck. Now no moving no matter what. Good.”

You feel his cock pulsating inside you and keeping a neutral face has never been more difficult than now. If you two weren't surrounded by at least a hundred people right now your ass would be bouncing up and down on him until he was shooting and filling you up but instead you sit still, following his directions and sporting a very natural blush that no makeup brand could ever replicate.

How long could you both sit here like this without needing to cum? How could he even control himself to not thrust. Damn it… he feels too good and you need some stimulation so you ignore what he's told you to do and begin rocking back and forth nodding your head like you're doing nothing more than enjoying the song that the DJ plays. It's enough to make you cum right there but Chan's strong hands stops you with a groan sucking in air between his teeth.

“Hey hey hey.” He says softly. “You were being such a good girl.” His voice his husky and low, it makes your muscles clench around him and when he groans again it does nothing to stop the need you feel.

“Channie.” You whine, not caring about your dignity. “I can't do this. It's too much I need you to fuck me.” You admit squeezing your legs and in the process, squeezing his cock with your cunt.

He curses under his breath fanning your hair at the nape of your neck making you shiver. It's unintentional, completely innocent but you shivering pulls a instinctive thrust from Chan. When you moan he does it again and you have to remember that you're not alone when the urge to arch your back and grind your way into a climax tries to take over. Chan is fighting a battle that he feels he may lose because you just feel too good wrapped around him. Even if you don't move, all you have to do is bear hug his cock and he'll lose his sanity, his composer and unravel.

He didn't think he'd be the one suffering right along with you. As someone who thinks everything through he didn't think of this part. Now he's fighting his compulsions and the impulse to fuck you hard and rough even with an audience. When he makes any sort of sound it only turns you on even more and he knows your walls can't help but clench in response. The way your pussy swallows him up, contracting around him like it's trying to milk him has his brain going fuzzy.

“Fuck, y/n baby. I'm so glad this pussy is mine. If I fucked you right now could you control yourself baby? Or would everyone know that I'm deep inside of you giving you all eight inches of my cock? Hm?” Chan growls gritting his teeth digging his fingertips into your skin.

“Mm- I… I can try baby. I can't make any promises. You've got me too worked up. Please just fuck me though. I don't want to wait until we're home and I definitely don't want you to stop.” You reply sounding breathless as if you two had already been going at it.

“If we're doing this you have to keep still, no moving yeah? You do exactly what I say. If not then we're stopping. This is so we don't get caught okay?”

You nod looking straight ahead, focusing your eyes on the lighting fixtures that hang from the ceiling. They cast subtle patterns on the walls, adding to the ambiance around the club. Occasionally, bursts of colored light sweep across the room, adding to the atmosphere and hypnotizing you when you feel Chan start to move. He's squeezing his legs together like you were doing and bounces his legs to the beat of the song. Each squeeze and bounce creates a tiny thrust, his cock, barely moving in and out but it feels so good you almost close your eyes.

“Dance with me baby. Tap your foot. Fuck- mnh squeeze my cock with your pussy.”

You don't need to be told twice you do as asked without hesitation and the added movement on your part increases the thrusts. He's able to pull out of your cunt further, before snapping back up into you. The music is your focus though you don't hear what's playing, you keep the rhythm Chan has, nodding your head and keeping your breathing even. It's not easy, there's moments where you let slip a moan or a gasp that gets drowned out by the bumping bass. Even Chan can't control the raw uncontrolled sounds that escape him each time your pelvic muscles grip him.

Luckily for you two all your friends are still on the dancefloor but for how long? That thought is all too apparent to Chan and he cannot have anyone interrupting this. It feels too good to stop; he'd be liable to burn the place down in a fit of rage if he was forced to pull out of you before creaming your pussy, breeding you just how you both love. Heads will roll if he doesn't get to finish you both off.

“Need… mmm. Shit baby girl, I need you to cum q- quick can you do that for me?” He asks, his voice strains and his hands snake around your abdomen wrapping you in his arms. You nod in response. It's all you can do, you're afraid that if you try to utter a single word you won't be able to stop the noises that will spill from your lips.

“Good girl, now squeeze me and rock your body to the beat like you were doing before.” He steals your drink from your hand and brings it up to his lips nonchalantly but you hear his moans when you tighten your muscles.

Chan is close; he just needs you to reach your peak so that he can spill himself inside of your greedy cunt. So with his free hand he gently presses his palm down on your stomach just below your belly button. The pressure makes your legs shake and you stutter with your rocking but you find the rhythm again with ease, grateful that the song is a fast paced one.

With his cock throbbing inside of you and the rocking motion of your hips, Chan is now grunting behind you, quietly praising you behind the glass of your drink.

“Oh fuck baby, keep going. Mhm you're close now aren't you y/n? Yeah, I can feel it. So gorgeous when you cum. I can just imagine how you look right now, flushed cheeks, lips parted wanting to scream my name.” He grunts and adds more pressure to your abdomen and bucks his hips once and fast.

He's right you are close and you're more than certain that you're making a mess of the front of his jeans. Neither of you care, your impending shared orgasm on the forefront of your minds. With every rock of your hips you feel Chan's cock bump against that sweet spot nestled deep inside of you that only he can reach. Your walls quiver and you bite down hard on your bottom lip. Your brows crinkle together, making you look angry while you fail to look like nothing is happening other than a happy couple enjoying the music the DJ provides. Behind you Chan is struggling but not for long. With a popping sound, your bottom lip springs out from your teeth and you're gasping like you can't get enough air into your lungs.

“Chan… fuck.” You gasp and that's all that he needs to hear. He understands exactly what you mean.

“Yes…” He hisses, pushing his pelvis hard against you. “That's my girl. Oh fuck,” He gasps along with you. “Cum all over me y/n.” Chan mutters cumming inside of you, shooting hard and deep while the walls of your cunt throb with your own release.

With your movements slightly restricted to stay unnoticed, the orgasm is unlike any others that Chan has coaxed from you. It’s as if you've been plunged into an icy lake and the suddenness takes your breath away. Your body is on pins and needles and fucking hell does it feel unbelievable for both you and Chan. Your cunt devours every bit of his seed, still hungry for more. You're shaking all over and it takes Chan’s strong arms hugging you to slow down your breathing and your body to relax.

“Fuck.” You whisper and he chuckles.

“Mhm, I can't wait to get you home y/n. Hope you've got nothing planned tomorrow. I don't think you'll be able to walk when I'm done with you baby.” He informs you and your pussy reacts clamping down around his slowly softening cock.

“Oh, is someone already ready for another round?”

“Another round? Hell yeah bro let's end the night with a fucking bang!” Felix cheers from seemingly out of nowhere, pulling you and Chan back to the now. The shy giggles you two let out leave everyone confused as they join the table one by one.

After ordering another round for the group you both excuse yourselves and as descritley as possible separate from each other without anyone noticing. The whole way to the restroom laughter erupts from you and Chan.

“I can't believe we did that!” Chan shouts over the music and pulls you into his arms. His lips land on yours kissing you until your head is spinning.

“Keep that up Mr. Bang and I'm pulling you into the bathroom with me.” You scold him playfully. He calls your bluff, kissing you again and grabbing your ass for good measure.

“Go on, I'll be waiting beautiful.” he nods in the direction of the restroom doors.

Once cleaned up you and Chan rejoin your friends. Finally making it to the dancefloor, you dance an entirely different dance than before. Your body still feels lit up and the craving you have for your boyfriend still remains. You'll hold him to his promise when you get home but the one thing you love about him is that he always stays true to his word. You know he'll deliver, he's all action as well as words. Who would've thought losing a bet could be so much fun?

(tag test)

@oddracha

[mellowsaturns]

you’re my purpose

JOEL MILLER X READER

summary: you and joel get into a fight after he refuses to let you come with him to find his brother

warnings: angst with a happy ending, fluff, protective!joel, argument, hurt/comfort, allusion to an age gap, slight mentions of grief and loss, bad communication skills, confessions 

wc: 1.2k

--- 

Like many days before, you’re making your way over to Joel’s unprompted.

He gets grumpy when you do that because you live on the other side of the QZ and he doesn’t like you making the journey over.

But like always, you don’t listen to him.

It’s not your fault he gave you a spare key or the fact that his place is significantly better than yours.

When you enter, you do the secret whistle to let him know it was you before locking the door from behind.

Silence greets you—then the noise of rushed shuffling. “Joel?” you say softly, and seconds later he comes out of the bedroom and stuffs a shirt into his bag that’s laying on the kitchen table.

“Are you going somewhere?” you ask in confusion.

He looks up at you with guilty eyes then clears his throat. “I’m leaving.”

You start to panic just slightly. “What do you mean you're leaving?”

“I need to go find Tommy.”

You sigh. “I’m sure he’s fine, Joel. You know how he is.”

He looks down and lets out a breath. “No… It’s… Something’s wrong. It’s been a week and no signal.”

You see the nervous look in his eyes and your heart aches for him. But leaving the QZ? That was a suicide mission—and if you remember correctly, Tommy was heading to fucking Wyoming. That was days from here.

If he wanted to put himself in danger then so be it, but you would be right behind him. You would go wherever he would. “Let me come with you, then.”

Looking away, he crosses his arms as if he already expected you to say that. “You know you can’t,” he remarks.

“Joel,” you say his name slowly. “I want to come with you.”

“No,” he gruffs, “You can’t come with me. That’s final.”

“Why? You know I’m perfectly capable of—” you start to argue, but he’s not even listening to you, now opting to dig through his bag instead.

You huff and stalk towards him, yanking the bag out of his hand and throwing it to the other side of the table. “You’re not even listening to me.”

His jaw ticks. “You’re not fucking going. I’m not going to say it again.”

“I don’t understand you. I know how to fucking defend myself so I don’t see why—”

“Because you’re going to slow me down. Don’t you see? You’re just going to be extra baggage!” he shouts.

The words come out of his mouth and into the world, unable to be taken back.

You shut your lips and your tongue goes dry.

Baggage. You were baggage to Joel. You had always thought you were a companion of sorts, a friend, a partner, perhaps even something more (not that Joel would ever admit it). But you were just extra baggage. A burden.

Has he always seen you this way? Suddenly, the walls were closing in on you.  

Rubbing at his mouth, he sighs. “That’s not wh—”

You raise your hand to stop him. “No, I understand. You don’t need to explain anymore,” you say with a shaky breath.

Turning around, you blink a few tears away. However, before you could walk away he grabs your wrist and spins you back around.

He says your name with that low honeyed voice of his. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. You’re not a burden.”

You know Joel was never the best at verbally expressing his feelings—acts of service were more his forte, but you can’t keep doing this anymore.

It’s your turn to get angry now. “Then what do you mean? I’m not a psychic, I can't try and read your damn mind everytime!”

His jaw is tense—he’s nervous, you conclude. You give him a minute but silence still surrounds the two of you. “Were you just going to leave without saying goodbye?” you ask, voice defeated. “God—” you pause, wiping away a stray tear, “Was I suppose to come here one day and find out then? How can you expect me to live without knowing what happened to you or when you were going to return?”

Letting out a small sniffle, you choke out, “Do I mean that little to you?”

“You know that’s not true,” he says, short and direct.

“Then why won’t you let me come with you?” you grit out.

“Because if you get hurt, I will never forgive myself!” He brings your hands together and holds them with shaky hands, a rare moment of vulnerability. “I can’t… I can’t go through that again. I can’t lose you too,” he confesses, voice trembling.

When you look into his eyes, he’s looking at you as if you meant the entire world to him. But doesn’t he see that in your eyes too?

“But… but what if I lose you?” you whisper. “Have you ever thought about that?”

“It’s different,” he replies. “It’s not the same.”

“What do you mean it’s not the same. If I lost yo—”

“You have a whole life ahead of you. If something happened to me, you can still bounce back from it. But if… if I lost you—” he chokes out, “I don’t think… I wouldn’t have a purpose anymore.”

There.

Joel was always a stoic man. He never let his emotions dictate his actions and most importantly, he never let his emotions show because that was weakness. But this, his confession to you, his greatest worry is finally out.

He laid his heart out on the floor—and it was yours.

It’s a wonder Joel even has the ability to feel anymore. But he does—and you’re the reason for it. You’re consuming his heart. You who just showed up and kept appearing again and again, bringing a little normalcy and humanity back into his life. Asking him about his days, making him feel like a human again. He spent years bordering up his heart and shutting people out, but it turns out, there was a spot he missed—one where you managed to creep in and lit a hearth and made home.

So he couldn’t help but feel overprotective of you, because you’re one of the only few things left that’s worth something to him.

“Don’t you see? I can’t lose you.”

You let out a whimper, knowing too well what he was implying. “Joel,” you say, bringing your hand to cup his face. “Please don’t say that,” you plead. “Nothing’s going to happen to you and nothing’s going to happen to me, okay?”

It doesn’t matter if he never says those three little words to you because he just did, in his own way.

You pull him into your arms and he leans against you. “I understand you’re trying to protect me, but I wish you would’ve at least talked to me about it.”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” he mutters against you. “I was scared and just wanted you to be safe.”

You hum, rubbing circles against his back. “I know. But you do know your aim is shit, right? You should be more concern about that.”

He chuckles at that and you feel the vibrations of his chest against your own, bringing a small smile to your face too.

“And you do know that I’m not going to listen to you, right? I’m coming.”

“I know,” he says.

You pull away and gently stroke his cheek before pressing a small chaste kiss where your thumb was just seconds ago.

“Wherever you go, I go.”

Because there would be no one else. Joel was your only reason you kept on fighting too.

[tb3ih]

APOCALYPSE ⨳ satoru gojo

[ the world is caving in for EX-BOYFRIEND!SATORU--he thinks ]

⨳ word count: 2.7k !

⨳ warnings. post-breakup, non-sorcerer!au, "treating wounds tension" + underlying notes of unfinished love. contains nsfw (MDNI) — oral & fingering (f!receiving), cunnilingus, missionary, creampie & aftercare (?)

⨳ notes, happy love day to the satoru enjoyers. everyone else... well, maybe you'll learn to enjoy him after this. ( thank you to @ktsumu & @difficultdomains for mothering this fic, i appreciate you both sm <3 )

there is nothing quite like the loneliness of being the strongest. GOJO SATORU doesn't allow himself to pay any mind to the void which separates him from the rest of his kind, though at times he wished he could rid himself of it entirely.

his pace is slow and lacking in rhythm, tall frame swaying and trying to keep him from planting face first into the pavement as his body carries him down the familiar path. the metal in his mouth has yet to subside and the male is nearly on the edge of consciousness until he recognizes the entrance to your apartment building.

he does not knock, simply entering the code at your door knob and praying it hasn't changed since the last time he's been there. and it hasn't, because no sooner after he presses the enter button, the lock clicks and a small chime resonates from the door, allowing him in.

the door doesn't creak, so he swings it open just slightly to allow himself in, but one step into the living room and suddenly he's forced into the wall of the hallway behind him, something cold and sharp pressed against his throat.

gojo satoru has never feared for his life, but the glow in your narrowed eyes as you hold him in place and press the knife against his throat has his soul threatening to escape through his throat. and then something shifts, your eyes changing in emotion and just as fast as you appeared because you're no longer against him, tucking the knife away in its holster and standing before him.

"satoru? what are you doin--satoru!" satoru doesn't remember your embrace being this warm when you catch his collapsed body, but then again he hardly remembers anything at all these days. "oh my god--is that blood? jesus, satoru!"

he hums out a reply, vision a little fuzzy around the edges as he tries to register the dimly lit living room of your apartment. he hears you curse out, muttering about how heavy the male was before setting him gently down on the couch. gojo's vision is going in and out, his consciousness indecisive because one moment, you're gone and the next you're standing over him, brows pinched in concentration as you clean something off his face.

"hold still," you say quietly when you feel him try to move from his position. you're seating next to him on the couch, tying off the stitches at his brow. putting your tools down, you wipe the bit of crimson from his pale face before covering it with a bandage. his cerulean eyes watch you unwaveringly, but you refuse to return his stare.

you may have only one life, but there were things better left untouched.

the rest of his bloodstained clothes remain in a heap on the floor near the couch, revealing that most of the blood you had previously witnessed was not his. you stand, grabbing your first aid materials and putting them on the counter. when you come back, you hold a glass of water in one hand and some painkillers in another.

you set them on the coffee table, sitting down next to him once more to adjust one of the bandages you notice has come loose around his shoulder. "y/n..."

you pause your movements, eyes carefully meeting his. you regret your decision the moment you see the way his irises spill with an emotion you wish you could get rid of as easily as you did your assignments.

"why are you here, satoru?" your voice is so quiet, you almost don't hear yourself. why did you come back? is what you wished you said, but you can't risk reopening a wound you've stitched up too many times.

the male purses his lips for a second, racking his mind for an answer that won't push you even further away from him. "i... didn't know where else to go..." he brings his other hand up to your face, fingertips ghosting your cheek out of fear he might break you if he does make contact. "please, you’re… all i have left…"

you inhale sharply, something forming in the back of your throat. "please, don't look at me like that," you beg, but you don't move an inch as he starts to move closer to you, his hand coming to gently hold your face.

"why?" it is quiet in the room and his face is only a breath away. he is close, too close, but you can't bring yourself to pull away.

something hot escapes your eye, the pain in your chest flaring up again and causing the nerves on your skin to ignite. "because," you start, voice breaking off a little before continuing in a whisper. "i might actually believe that you love me this time."

his thumb catches another tear before it can make it all the way down your cheek. "and what if i said i did?"

"you are a cruel man," you reply, never breaking eye contact with him.

something glints in those beautiful blue eyes of his at your words and you know you'd never be able to get rid of him even if you tried. "then maybe you can teach me a thing or two about being good."

silence settles around the both of you, neither of you wanting to say something that might unravel whatever it is that's built up in these few fleeting moments.

“oh, satoru,” you finally say, a bit of sad amusement tugging at the corner of your lip, “not even hell would be enough punishment for you.”

when his fingers go grab your chin gently and pull your lips closer to his, you can’t even find the strength in you to fight it. gojo pauses, lips moving from your eyes to your lips that are nearly touching his. 

he licks his lips. “then why don’t you show me what is?”

[n]sfw under the cut!

and you’re not breathing anymore. because in that instant you are telling yourself you loathe the man before you as you bring both of your hands to his face and finally push your lips onto his, all the oxygen in your lungs no sooner chased out by everything that is gojo satoru. 

though, you can’t say your partner is any better, because he’s pushing back with just as much force, lips molding against your fervently as his hands move to trail to your waist, lifting you with no effort to make you straddle his waist. you gasp, his fingers digging in just enough for the pain to be delicious as he holds you down against his clothed dick. you can feel the way gojo’s lips twist into a smirk that he’s got you wrapped around his finger, though you didn’t mind one bit. 

when was the last time you’d done anything like this? your hips move off muscle memory, grinding down hard against him at a slow, but steady pace that has gojo groaning into your mouth. your fingers find his hair, combing, tangling, and pulling his soft locks while he breaks the kiss to let his lips travel from your jaw, down your neck, and to the sensitive spot of your collarbone. 

“fuck, y/n,” gojo curses, pulling away to watch you pull off your shirt, lips swollen and pink while his eyes watch you behind a veil of something almost soft. you aren’t a fool though, you’re just as hungry as him. 

his lips attach almost immediately to your chest when you fall back into him, a combination of his incisors and tongue leaving hues of scarlet as his mouth dances across your bare skin. you can feel how painfully hard he is through his pants, the moan that escapes his lips almost making you chuckle when you drag your hand from his face to his chest and finally to the waistband of his pants, palming his length through the material. 

“damn couch is too fuckin’ small,” he growls against your skin, to which you respond by guiding him down to the plush carpet on the floor, the soft material on your skin not nearly as cruel as the leather of your couch. 

he takes your nipple between his teeth, tugging gently before swirling around it with his tongue, causing you to mewl out at the pleasure. “well, i’ve never actually tried to get dicked down on it before, but i appreciate the criticism,” you breathe out, the snarkiness in your reply inciting amusement in gojo as he sees you’ve gone back to your original self. 

“i was wondering when you’d gotten so soft,” he taunts, “thought i’d lost you forever.”

you scoff, “as if i’d let you think you’re the best in the business.”

he switches the two of you, toned arms caging your head in where you now lay on the floor. “prove me wrong then, gorgeous,” gojo says lowly. his eyes look as if they’re trying to devour you in the way that they trail down from your lips to your heaving chest, bite marks and hickies blossoming in reds and bruising purples all over. 

he keeps his eyes on yours when his hand finds the drawstring of your pants, undoing them in the blink of an eyes before hooking his fingers into the waistband and pulling them off entirely. his hand comes to your panties, fingertips ghosting over the already-wet patch of fabric. 

“you know, for a professional,” gojo starts, lips pulling into a mean grin, “you sure do let yourself get riled up easily.”

with one hand you pull his face down to yours by the back of his neck and with your other hand you grab the wrist of his hand pushing it against your aching cunt. “for a professional, you sure like to run your mouth,” you retort, continuing with a bit of impatience in your voice, “if you don’t shut up and fuck me, i’m going to have to ask you kindly to leave.”

at that, he chuckles, pulling your panties to the side to pressing a finger to your bundle of nerves. you shudder at the sudden contact, back arching involuntarily off the carpet as he starts to move. “well i guess i better get to it, then,” gojo chuckles lowly, dipping a finger into your soaking entrance. shifting his position, he moves down so that his head is in between your thighs before bringing his mouth to your clit. 

you hear him curse against you and you sigh, thighs closing in on his head as he starts to working his fingers in and out of you. curling his fingers, gojo relishes the way you shudder involuntarily, walls clenching around his fingers as he speeds up his brutal pace. there’s a familiar tightening in the pit of your stomach and the pleasure flooding your head has the edges of your vision looking fuzzy. 

“satoru…hngh–!” you’re a mess underneath him, hands shaking when they move to tug his hair harder. “s-slow down–please!”

the white-haired male hums against you in reply, detaching his lips from your clit to meet your eyes. “funny how you’re asking me to slow down, but this pussy’s beggin’ to be fucked,” he coos, watching the way you’re swallowing his fingers knuckles deep.

and you feel as if the world is a little off-kilter, the trembling in your thighs intensifying as your orgasm teeters on the edge of crashing down. and it’s just as you’re about to cum that he pulls his fingers from your aching cunt, leaving you gasping and sensitive from the sudden loss of contact. “satoru…?” 

and that’s when you feel it, his tip prodding between your soaked folds, dragging against your entrance with a pace that can only be described as teasing. gojo’s face comes to settling in your neck, one hand pressed on the carpet beside your head to support him while the other continues pressing his cock against you. “‘m still here, gorgeous,” he murmurs into your neck, voice low and a little strained. 

it’s taking everything in him to keep from pushing in and throwing every boundary between you two to hell. the lilt of your voice when you whined his name, the twist of your fingers through his hair, god, even just the taste of you on his tongue–it was driving him mad. 

if this was heaven, gojo would willingly repent if it meant he could devour you.

and when you curse out, calling his name like a mantra, only then does he snap back to reality, your teeth finding his neck when he finally does push in, your gummy walls giving him nothing short of a warm welcome as you swallow him whole. gojo pulls out till it’s just the tip teasing your walls before slamming his hips back in, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix with just enough force to have stars dancing in your vision. 

“holy shit,” he breathes, groaning out at the feeling of your nails raking down his back. you feel his muscles flex as he adjusts above you, “i’m going to eat you alive.”

you place a feather-light kiss where you had just been biting down, whispering in reply, “so do it.”

and he’s smiling against your neck when he starts his brutal pace, grinding his hips into yours in a way that has a scream trying to claw its way from your throat. gojo is a muttering mess of moans and curses, the drag of his veins against your fluttering walls sending him into a state of euphoria. 

you feel that familiar tightening in your core, the continuous teasing of his tip against your cervix making you arching into the white-haired male above you, your nails drawing uncertain and indecisive shapes into the contours of his back. “satoru… i think i’m–oh god, please…”

gojo is definitely not thinking straight. from ecstasy washing through his veins to the faint stinging of your nails carving into his back, he wasn’t sure if there was any going back. he can feel the way you clench around him, pushing him closer and closer to his edge by the second. 

“y/n,” he rasps, unable to stop the stutter in his pace of his hips against yours. “...god, you–you’re everything…” this, here–the moment–is everything.

you almost don’t catch what he says solely out of doubt that he even said what he did. you don’t respond, only biting his shoulder to muffle the sound of his name as it comes tumbling off your lips in a scream. your orgasm washes over you and you let yourself go under, body shaking as gojo comes to finish following you. 

and when he does, it comes crashing. hips slowing to a halt against you, you hear him groan, frame shuddering as he empties himself into you. you feel the warm flood your walls, both of your frames heaving for air as you come down from your highs. when he finally does calm down, you’re already fading in and out of consciousness. 

you’re half-awake when gojo rolls off of you, taking his weight and his warmth with him when he gets up and collects himself. you don’t have time to actually feel the difference in temperature because only a few moments after he’s gone, he’s back again, arms locking your tired body against his chest as you’re lifted from the carpet. 

you’re barely hanging on to reality when you feel like you’re being embraced again, only this time it’s a blanketing kind of warmth. “satoru…” 

the male lays perfectly still against you, allowing you to adjust yourself and get as comfortable as possible. the moon peeks in from the sun window in your bedroom ceiling and gojo finds himself staring up at the distant twinkling of young stars galaxies away. 

none of the stars have exploded and the moon appears to have stayed on its course. when he looks back at you, you’ve already drifted to rest, breaths rhythmic and nearly silent as you remain cuddled against him. 

silly of him to think that the world was ending. 

after all, you were right here.

© tb3ih mmxxiv all rights reserved