#to be able to draw in bed... so that's something that's got me looking at tablets i can't afford lmfao

[plotsignificanthaircut555]

Bottled Up (Satoru Gojo x Reader)

MDNI SMUT 18+ CONTENT

Gojo can’t cum. Too much on his mind, not enough time to himself, not enough chances to indulge. It’s becoming a matter of personal hygiene. He can't go on like this. He needs help. Your help.

Ao3 Masterlist.

WC: 7.4k Warnings: casual sex, raw sex, penetrative sex, kissing, kissing SLOPPY, oral m!receiving, discussion of anal but not present really, improper use of cursed energy, doggy, begging, crying, desperate whiny Gojo, brief mention on former satosugu,

------ Wow can you guys even believe? I actually wrote something about Gojo!! Tbh writing about/for him intimidates the fuck out of me but i have some longer form ideas about him so this was a good exercise. I hope y’all like it. -Doodle

Satoru can’t cum. He’s broken. His balls dried up. His dick died. His cursed energy overloaded and rendered him impotent. Limitless misfired and clogged him completely. It was the only way to explain why he hadn’t cum in two months.

He used to be able to cum. Fuck, he used to cum too easy. Ten years ago he would jerk off before hooking up so he didn’t cum too fast. He was so fucking sensitive, every touch or graze could send him shivering. Now he would have given anything for his days as a quick draw. That life was over.

Do people have cum caps? Like a finite amount of times they can orgasm and an excess of masturbation and experimentation in his youth had burned through his chances. He wants to believe that if he had known how wasteful he was, he would have acted differently, but it was a lie. He was too instinctual, everything in his nature, his upbringing, had taught him to trust his instincts above all else. They kept him alive, kept him going, kept him satisfied. But now, a vital piece of the puzzle was missing.

It was the sixty-sixth day in a row. He got home around eleven pm, an earlier night than most. His apartment, with its spotless, professionally tended, interior that betrayed the depraved chaos burning inside of him. Dropping his keys and shoes at the door he groaned into the silence at the way his work pants shifted against his throbbing erection trucked down his left leg. This was the part that was growing painful. The sensitivity. It started just around his pelvis, any brush of fabric or misjudged distance between himself and curses, near his hips would send a shaking beat of pleasure up his spine. But it spread, and spread. Even the car seat against his back was starting to turn him on. Last week Principle Yaga touched the back of his neck by mistake and his eyes rolled back. His black blindfold was working finding more work by the day. He started leaving limitless up constantly, well, more constantly. Only dropping completely after he had crossed the threshold of his home. Anything else was too risky.

Today had been rough, he woke up aching between his legs, the coldest shower he could stand helped to bring it down, but not for long. On the way to work he had to cross and re-cross his legs, a difficult feat at his height, over and over until he got to the school. Because of his existence in the good graces of the universe, there were no classes, only a brutally endless string of meetings. Not good, but at least…seated. By the time the final meeting was dismissed he thought he could bite through a cement support beam. On the way out, one of the higher ups patted him on the back, limitless blocking it from making contact, but he found a tantalizing urge to let it pass through, just for the contact.

He was fucking ruined.

Passing through the mainroom, up the staircase to the bedroom, he pulled his blindfold from his eyes, blinking a few times, snowy eyelashes relaxing from their position pressed against his eyelids. Finally in his bedroom, he pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor, already breathing hot and deep. He passed his bed into the ensuite bathroom, clicking the light and taking in his own reflection.

Fuck, he looked rough.

Skin sallow. Muscles strained and tense. Still handsome, of course, but drained. Like he had been wrung out.

And alone.

Satoru clicked the light off. He couldn’t go there.

He walked himself over to the bed, lithe hands finding his belt and unfastening it, slipping his pants down his legs. A relieved sigh left his mouth as the tight garment was removed. He sat on the edge of his bed, palming his desperate erection. He was shivering, the stimuli so overwhelming already. He wasn’t hopeful, but he was too desperate to stop. Keening back onto the bed, he let his eyes close. He didn’t want to see, the only sensation he wanted was to feel himself, touching himself, bringing him to the peak that felt so insurmountable. He was diamond hard now, finally he pulled himself free of the confines of his briefs. Taking his length into his hand, circling his palm over his barren tip.

He couldn’t even precum anymore.

He groaned in frustration, scooting back further on the cushy mattress, his briefs joining his discarded pants on the floor. He spit onto his hand, coating his dick from base to head, easing his strokes. He let his head fall back against the pillows, dredging up memories of past lovers to try and aid his efforts. He wasn’t really a porn guy, not above it, certainly. But it was overstimulating, bright lights, too colorful, just overwhelming to his already heightened senses. He preferred to rely on his own mind, he was in total control there. Or at least he used to be. His mind was too full of other bullshit to wander into the salacious. Work, always work. Lesson plans, missions, reports, meetings.

Fuck.

He reset, turning over onto his knees, moving one of his silken pillows under him, opting to rut against the soft cushion. One hand underneath pressing it against his length. His head hanging heavy under his shoulders, sweat dripping down the slope of his nose. The cold silk pillowcase against his cock, making his sweating body erupt into goosebumps. He slid his hips, gasping out shuddering breaths. It felt so good, so cold and soft against his begging erection. The muscles in his back rippled, swelling and beckoning under his frosty, even skin. The light of his bedroom cast gorgeous shadows on his back and hips, bringing out his excellent physique. The shadow of his spine, the lat muscles under large, perfectly worked arms, almost appearing as angel wings in the low, soft glow.

He brought his thoughts to long shapely legs, thighs shaking under his touch. Lips, wet and swollen, against his own. This was working, his breath was starting to catch in time with his hips against the pillow. He let his mind continue to wander and increased his speed. Glute muscles flexing hard as images of bodies he once held, some with features he knew well, some less familiar but still worth remembering. Some too familiar, silky, long black hair falling into his mouth. Dark violet eyes, full, strong arms.

No. Not that. He couldn’t go there either. There was nothing left for him anymore.

It killed his momentum. Still aching below but too stormy on top. Stilling his hips, slouching over the mattress. He took a few deep breaths, trying to take in the room around him in pieces, grounding himself in the present. In reality.

He wiped his wet hand over his face then on the sheets below him, gripping hard. This was getting ridiculous. He felt pathetic. Tears burned behind his blessed eyes. He felt broken. He felt shame bubbling behind his navel. He couldn’t live like this. He needed to cum. He needed to release all of this build up and get himself right.

Satoru pulled his phone from the discarded pants and tapped it a few times. Until he found just what he was looking for.

Your phone screen illuminated your dark bedroom. Your humidifier was on, your lights had been long turned out. You had just fallen asleep after some restless tossing and turning. The screen lit up again, this time chiming out a text notification. That jarred you from the warm grip of dream and made your head spring up. You glanced at the screen, trying to read the too bright notification with sleep still coating your eyes. But before you could, it changed to the dimmer incoming call screen. It vibrated on the nightstand, suddenly too loud to ignore. You sighed, and retrieved it.

It was Gojo. He was calling you. You hadn’t seen him in months. fuck was that right? You thought back. You hadn’t seen him in…six months. The last time you left his gorgeous, perfectly styled, agonizingly well put together apartment, it hadn’t been on bad terms, by any metric, but it wasn’t like you were falling into each other's arms either. There hadn’t been any blow out or agreement not to see each other anymore, it just fizzled out. You were sure you had been disappointed when the calls and texts slowed to a trickle, but it wasn’t like you were dating or anything. You had hooked up a few times earlier in the year. No more than four times total. Okay, six times. Okay, nine times. Okay, you lost track somewhere in the second month. What really qualifies as hooking up these days, anyway? Just penetration or sexting? Oral? Hand stuff? Hand stuff in public? Other stuff in public? What should even qualify if you were keeping track -- which you weren’t! You answered the call.

“Do you know what time it is?” You sighed out, smiling through your feigned annoyance.

He purred on the other side of the line, “hmmmm, what are you wearing?”

“Pajamas, because it's almost one in the morning.” your voice was hoarse, sleep having laid your vocal cords to rest.

“Sounds hot.” You could hear his stupidly sexy smile, “You should come over. Can’t waste an outfit like that at home.”

You laugh, already planning how quickly you could pull yourself together, and whether or not the trains were still running, “You’re kidding me. I haven't heard from you in months. You call at an ungodly hour and expect me to come running over at the drop of a hat?”

“You don’t have to run, I’ll send a car.” He coos.

You laugh again, stretching in your bed, letting out a soft groan.

“mmmm, do that again.” His voice grew heavier, there was some suspicious sounding rustling on his end.

You stayed quiet, wanting to see if you would hear anything else and wanting to deny him.

“Now don’t be like that, baby.” He whines, he sounds pathetic “I need your help. It’s an emergency.”

You got out of your bed, still taking your sweet time, savoring his helplessness, “An emergency, huh? Nothing fatal I hope.”

His tongue clicks on the other side, “hmmm, it’s hard to say. Could be a fever, I’m feeling…hot.”

You hate that a line so corny is making you bite your lips to keep quiet. You slipped into a cuter, but still comfy lounge set, a bit more versatile than your pajamas “Sounds contagious, maybe it would be best if I stayed home…”

“Please!” His voice changed, cracking and almost panicked, “I need you, please.”

There was no version of this conversation that ended any other way, “Send the car.”

“Already outside.” You heard his face split into that gorgeous smile you couldn't resist, not even over the phone.

When you arrived at his front door, you didn't even have a chance to knock before he swung the door open. And fuck he looked good. Bad, but good? Not bad, just…disheveled. He hadn’t bothered to put a shirt on, inhumanly muscled torso glowy and flushed, his hair matted and unkempt, a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his hips. The long, angled white scar healed from an injury long past going from his shoulder to his opposite hip. You traced the line with your eyes, recalling the first time you had seen it, how he had moved your fingers over it, getting you used to the feeling of it under your touch, assuring you that it was long healed and nothing to fuss over. Every inch of him was perfect, despite his pain, his history. You couldn’t resist the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world. Your ogling did not go unnoticed, looking up to his face you saw the smile you had heard so much of recently.

“Miss me?” He opened the door wider, allowing you to enter, ducking under his arm.

“Yeah.” You admitted rolling your eyes and stepping inside, leaving your shoes at the door.

You took in the sleek, cavernous town house around you. His decor hadn’t changed at all, a lovely front room, a staircase along one windowed wall, leading up to his bedroom. If you were to press further into the main floor, peeling back shoji screens you would find more bedrooms, frozen in time just as they were last left by their former inhabitants, his office, barely ever touched, a gorgeous bathroom complete with a personal sauna. For someone who spent nearly no time at home, he really did have the house dreams are made of.

“I can get you something to drink if you want.” He offers, shutting and locking the door.

“That’s okay. You sounded pretty desperate on the phone, I’d hate to keep you waiting.

He wasn’t totally ready for this part. Having to explain what was going on with him. He shifted a bit, he wanted you so bad. He needed it. He needed every part of you right now, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“Come on Gojo, you got me out here. Don’t get shy on me now. What’s the big emergency?” You set your bag down on his expansive kitchen island, not subtly eyeing the absolutely incomprehensible bulge tenting the front of his sweats.

“It’s been so long, why the rush, Sugar?” He plays coy, approaching you with a suave gait, moving past you to the refrigerator, “Sparkling water? Still? I can go down to the cellar if you want something stronger?”

“Gojo…” You raise your eyebrows.

“I have tea or coffee if you prefer. Some sodas, you like diet right?”

“Gojo come on---”

“You know i'm not great in the kitchen but if you’re hungry I could---”

“Satoru!” You cut him off, finally pulling his attention from the icebox, “What’s up with you?”

His white eyebrows knit together in the center, making his eyes droop pitfully, “I can’t cum.”

You can barely hear his confession, and you must have heard him wrong so in earnest you ask, “What?”

“I can’t cum. For weeks, nothing. I try and I try and just…nothing.” He blurts, simultaneously relieved and mortified.

You know you shouldn't stare, that you should say something, but you’re dumbfounded. There was once a time, not too long ago even, where he had you bent over this exact counter pushing through his own leaking orgasm to bring you to tears. And that had been the third round that night. You always thought he was the untouchable man, a paragon of self control and pushed limits. To think of him unable to even pleasuring himself, it felt impossible.

“You can’t cum?” You say dumbly.

“Well now that you have repeated it, I think I must be cured, you can go now.” He rolled his eyes, leaning his shoulder against the fridge, fighting the hiss that bubbles in his throat from its chilling surface against his heated skin.

“I’m sorry!” You put your hands up like you had been caught, “It's just a little hard to believe! I never expected you to….struggle…in this…area.”

Gojo’s eyebrows flew up, every word you said made it worse. You could feel it but you couldn’t stop yourself. You were apparently determined to put every foot possible in your big stupid mouth.

“I just mean because you’re usually so good! How could this happen, are you sick? I don’t know why I would even ask that! Obviously you’re not sick, you're just….having some…dysfunction.”

“Why would you say dysfunction?” He stared at you, ego bruised but still amused at how poorly you were handling this.

“I didn’t mean like that! I Just---”

“Any other word. Any word in the world you could have said, and you go with dysfunction.” He chuckles, his own embarrassment now vacated completely in wake of how flagrantly you had just shit the bed.

“That was super dumb, and I’m really sorry. I have no idea what to say.” You just gave up on the second half of the sentence, knowing nothing you were saying was going to help.

“I don't have erectile dysfunction, the erection is not the problem,” He doesn’t have to gesture below his waist, the subject of conversation stands perfectly at attention, pushing against the flimsy fabric, “It won't go away, I’m stuck like this, and I can’t think about anything else, and I can’t get anything done. I need your help, you have to help me get rid of it.”

Your chest warmed a bit, a sly canary eating smile crossed your face, “So you called me, huh?”

“Yes I called you.” He sighs.

“Out of everyone you could have booty called to help your infinite boner, you call little old me? Gojo, I'm touched!” You sound like you're accepting a Nobel prize.

He rolls his eyes, “I knew you were going to be annoying about this.”

You took a seat at one of the bar stools at the counter, resting your head flirtatiously on your perched hands, “So like when you were choosing who to call, what made you pick me…am I just that good?”

You were, fuck you really were. He had thought about you so many times, Your perfect body, your pretty eyes, your soft hair, your legs around his hips, your fucking mouth. It had been too long over all, but it had been far too long since he had been with you. He called you because he knew you were great, and because he trusted you. He could be honest with you without judgement, your current reaction notwithstanding. He knew that he could count on you to be discreet and up front. There weren’t any guessing games when you were together, he didn’t have to guess or grasp for clues at how you were feeling. He knew you.

“That’s right.” He nodded, willing to let you have this.

You let out a teasing school yard oooooooooooooh. Batting your eyelashes and grinning widely, feeling like the absolute queen of the universe.

But he was growing impatient, “You gonna help me out, or what?”

“Sounds like I have quite the reputation to protect, how long has it been exactly?” You eyed him up and down.

“Still about twenty centimeters. Give or take.” He answers, “Oh! You mean--two months.”

“Months? Two MONTHS?” You gawked and then caught yourself, “I’m sorry I know that doesn’t help…I just can’t believe you’re upright. How are you not hospitalized?”

“If this conversation takes much longer I may have to be.” He crosses the room to you, leaning over where you are seated on the counter, putting his arm around you to grip the back of your chair.

You lean back, taking in a breath as he leans closer. Fuck, he’s so handsome. Perfect pearly skin, hair soft and fluffy, those fucking eyes holding you still under their gaze.

“Come on, Sugar, help a guy out. We’re friends right? Friends help each other.” His breath is sweet against your face.

You feel hypnotized, looking between his eyes and lips in a dizzying circle. His cocky demeanor you were so used to was crackling, you could see beads of sweat that had formed on his brow, his tongue wet and heavy kept his lips parted, drawing you closer. He smelled like him, warm and clean, the whole place smelled like him. You were completely in his arena, but you still had all the power. The Strongest asking you for help, begging even, you felt high. You tilted your head up, close to his face, catching his eyes,

“What are friends for?” You closed the distance between you, locking your lips together.

He is quick to pull you closer, making your breasts press hard against his chest, drawing a moan from both of you. His tongue slips past your lips, and maps the interior of your mouth quickly. Reacquainting himself with your taste. Even just a kiss, a real kiss, made his body shudder. His left hand holds your face, his long fingers splayed over your cheek, from your neck up to you temple, his right hand held the back of your neck, keeping you firm in place against him. You are far handsier than him in this moment. You can’t stop yourself, you missed his body, his kiss, him. Feeling his toned stomach, around his hips to his back, digging your nails in just enough to see if he gasps. He does not. Far too focused on the sloppy, dripping kiss he waited so patiently for. He’s leaning over you, pushing you further and further back, making you dangerously close to falling off the stool below you. But of course, his hand grabs your back, holding you still, right where we wanted you. Just past the point where you would have to engage your abs, but not far enough for you to want to hold yourself up. Muscles right on the precious of passive ability and focused contraction, forcing to to rely on his hold, trusting him completely, and he could feel you would relax into his palm, melting into his touch.

“Fuck, Gojo. You really are desperate.” You giggled as his kissed moved down to your jaw and neck.

He moaned against your skin as your nails clawed at his lower back, nodding his head passively, running his tongue over your pulse point.

“You’re so pretty.” He hooks your leg over his hip, pressing the problem child erection right against yours clothed cunt, drawing a shaky gasp from you.

“Not here.” He pulls himself away. “Upstairs…do this right…let’s”

He’s not finishing any of his sentences, you almost worry if whatever problem that resides in his cock could be spreading to his brain. But maybe it was contagious because you can’t bring yourself to care. Holding your hand a bit too tight, he pulls you forward and up the staircase to his bedroom. He doesn’t bother shutting the door, no one else has lived here in a long time. The house is quiet, bar from the panting breaths that drip from both of you, the rustle of clothes, and the reconnection of hot, desperate skin. You kiss him again, pushing him back toward the bed. He allows you to push him onto the mattress, disconnecting your lips.

“So?” You flirt, standing naked before him, letting him see all of you, “how do you wanna fix this?”

He has shed his sweatpants in the shuffle, propped up on his elbow, the other hand giving himself long, slow strokes.

“I’ve been dreaming about that mouth, baby.” He chews on the interior of his bottom lip, “show me if you’re as good as I remember.”

He spreads his legs, allowing you a good long look at how hard he really has become. Angry, pink tip swollen, veins along the shaft straining against the skin. The lower ab muscles are so strained you think they might pop. You had almost forgotten how fucking big he is. Everything about him was too big. His broad, strong body, his long spindly legs, built, strong arms hanging below his hips, those big hands with their knuckly fingers, his long, thick cock and the ego that accompanied. Seeing all of him, how big he was, made a shock run up and down your spine.

How the fuck had you fit this thing inside of you before?

“Oh, don’t be shy now,” he echos your earlier words, “you can take it.”

Not to be out foxed, you steel yourself and sink to your knees in between his spread legs. He stops stroking himself, leaning against both elbows now, waiting with held breath for you to begin.

Your put your hands on his knees, massaging them down and up, feeling the taut muscles of his thighs, the soft hairs under your hands.

“You think about me a lot?” You kissed the side of his left knee.

“Mhm.” His head hung backs exposing his delicious, wiry throat.

His adam’s apple bobbed as he gasped, you ran your nails down his legs, making his hips jerk upward.

“Don’t tease baby, it’s bad enough already!” He begged.

Fuck he sounded good like that. No one could swing the pendulum of pathetic and cocky quite like Satoru Gojo.

“Two months huh?” You carried on, giving open mouthed kisses up his thigh between thoughts, “you must be sooooo sensitive. Poor baby.”

He nods, his eyes squeezed right, trying to focus on every sensation you’re giving him.

Finally you reach the divot between his hip and the base of his pelvis, the internal hinge of his thigh. You ran your tongue along the muscle, tasting the salt of his body. His hips jerk again.

“Please!” He cries out, the lamp at his bedside flicker off and on again.

“Careful Satoru.” You warned, “all you had to do was ask.”

You swirl your tongue around the swollen, aching tip of his dick. Looping around the underside of the head and sliding your mouth down further.

Satoru was in heaven, his eyes rolled back in his head, he fought to keep his hips still, he didn’t want to hurt you, but fuck he wanted more.

You slide your tongue along each beautiful vein, making a perfect map in your head of the topography of his penis. Pulling off and sinking back down again you could take him all the way to the base, coarse white hair ticking your nose as your relaxed your throat to accommodate him he fell back against the bed, one hand moving your hair off your forehead so he could see your pretty face. He didn’t know what he wanted to do more, relax into the pleasure and let it wash over him, or watch you take him further. He leaned up to watch, just as your peeked on eye open to see him falling apart. But the eye contact was too much for him to bear, he felt his cheeks erupt in a blush, and he fell backward again, using one arm to shield his eyes.

You tutted, running his cock along your lips as your spoke, giving it sloppy kisses to make the syllabals, “oh Satoru, look at me, baby. Doesn’t it feel good?”

He nods but doesn’t look up. He can’t bear it. Your weepy eyes filling with tears from the lack of breath, your lips swollen, encasing his cock head. Your hair pulled to one side, giving him a perfect view of your hollowed cheeks as you suck and pull at him. With your spit coating his cock, the sensitivity has doubled. Wet, schlucking sounds fill his bedroom, alongside your haughty moans. Or wait…that’s actually him moaning like that. He doesn’t even recognize himself, he’s panting, sweating, begging. He didn’t even realize he was talking but the praises have been spilling from him continuously:

Yes

Baby yes just like that

Fuck you’re so good

You’re so pretty

Fuck you’re doing so good

Feels so good

Baby

Fuck

Sugar

So pretty

So good

I can’t I

Please baby make me

Fuck you’re

Agh

Oh

Fu

Oh

Ah

O

I

All he can manage by the time he looks back at you are open vowel sounds. It’s feels fucking incredible, perfect, if this were three months ago he would have cum in an instant. This was the closest he had felt, but it still wasn’t enough. He had to be inside you. The hand keeping your hair back rounded your face, his thumb pushing against your lips.

“I need to fuck you.” He says breathlessly, “I won’t cum until I fuck you, please.”

You pull off of him, a little disappointed that you wouldn’t get to brag about your head game, but you push it aside and join him on the bed. Clingy as he is, he pulls you close, kissing you hard again. Your mouth is wet with saliva and pre cum. He didn’t have the time to be impressed at your skill bringing forth the pearly substance, he coveted so greatly. He was too focused on being as close as two people can be. You move to straddle his lap, but he shakes his head, breaking from your lips.

“Bend over.” His mouth is wet now, both of you wet from lips to chin.

You grin and climb off him, stacking a few pillows to give you something to rest on and presenting your hips to him. Satoru is getting his bearings back, he feels more in control now that he has moved onto his knees behind you. Desperate as he is he can’t resist brushing two feather light fingers down your spine, watching you arch as he drags them further and further down. Your spine snakes, your hips sway, his fingers find the cleft where your spine meets your ass, a perfectly little dimple, waiting for his hands to paw at, your breathy moan eggs him on, sliding further down, feeling your tight asshole clench from just the lightest of contact.

“You remember when you let me back here?” He circles it, reminiscing, “you were so tight. fuck, you felt so good baby.”

“Remember when you let me back there.” You tried to sound tough but your position bent over with your head buried in your hands made it difficult.

“Mmmmhm.” He felt his dick twitch again, remembering when you had fingered him open, sucking him in tandum, he swore he saw an angel that night.

And here you were again, having rushed over in the middle of the night just to help him, trembling under his fingertips. Maybe you really were an angel. His very own guardian angel. If anyone could bed a steward of the divine it would be him.

“I thought you needed my help.” You whined.

He giggles, leaning over you, close enough that his lips touch your ear, his heavy cock pressing against your slit,“Just making sure you’re as needy as I am.”

He runs his tongue over the shell of your ear, making you squeal. Of course he remembered all your sensitive spots. He returned to his knees behind you, spreading you open, marveling at the mess you had made. Dripping honey onto the bed, onto your thighs, on his hand. His mouth floods, the desire to bury his head between your legs quickly matching his desire to cum.

“Later.” You whimpered, having read his mind, “you need my help.”

He beams, “so selfless.”

Finally, after an hour of build up since your arrival, the agonizing time waiting for you to get here, and the two months of celibacy that had brought him here, he aligned himself at your drooling hole, your spit was still shining along his cock but he ran either side though your folds anyway, making sure he was wet enough. He had fucked enough and had a big dick for long enough that he knew taking it all required some specific anatomy or a lot of prep, usually both. And while you were familiar with him, and giving yourself so willingly to him, he didn’t actually want to hurt you.

“Satoru please just—-“

The rest of your sentence would never see the air of his bedroom. It’s conclusion stolen from you and replaced with a pathetic scream as he pushed inside. He had meant to ease in but as soon as he started he couldn’t stop himself, he bottomed out in his first thrust. A loud smack of your ass hitting his hips still resounded in the room as he pulled back and thrusted in again. Your back arched evilly, dangerously close to snapping your spine in half. Despite his tunnel vision, Satoru eased his hand up your back, effortlessly smoothing it and gripping your shoulder for more leverage.

“Yes! Oh fuck yes.” He grunted, thrusting in an evil pace.

You couldn’t even speak, he was so deep, you were willing to bet his made an impression agains the front of your stomach. On your pillow pedastule you sank further, and reached up one formerly supportive hand to grip his on your shoulder.

“Sa…sa…” you panted out, not even able to string his name together.

He moved to long, languid, but devastatingly deep thrusts, the hand on your shoulder holding the side of your neck now, “that’s it, sugar. Say my name. Say my name, baby, come on.”

You tried, you really fucking tried but the letters wouldn’t come, “S—Sa—-sss.”

Your eyes rolled back, crumbling completely into the silken pillowcases, not caring if your spit or tears ruined the fabric. He spanked you once hard, making your head shoot up.

“I said say it.” He grunted.

Cocky for a man who was nearly in tears over the phone because he couldn’t bust.

“Satoru!” You finally spilled, his cock pushing hard against your g spot, “Satoru! Satoru please! Be gentle!”

Now that your voice had found you again it was hard not to beg him for mercy.

“Please baby, please! Fuck that’s so good.” You babbled, bringing a sick smile to his face.

He fucked harder, deeper into you, reveling the way your walls fluttered around him. You were so tight he had initially worried he was going to split you in two. But you are his angel, he should have known better than to deny your divinity. Satoru could hear your moans increasing in pitch and becoming choppy. He reached around your hip, finding the perfect pearl between your lower lips and circling his middle finger around. The clench that followed sent you both keening. His fingers brought forth an orgasm you didn’t think was nearly as close. Your hips shaking, biting into the pillow to keep from screaming.

“No baby, let me hear you.‘I need it.” He panted, not stopping his fingers on your clit or his evil thrusts, seeming deeper and deeper every second.

You tried to lift your head but felt dizzy, your vision wasn’t right, your clit throbbed beautifully but made you aware of how fast your heart was. Gojo pulled out turning you on your back, reinserting himself with a kiss to your cheeks.

“Don’t pass out on me, okay? I need you baby, I need your help. Help me, please.” He thrusted slower, only moving a few inches at a time as your came down from the mind fuzzing orgasm.

You nodded, coming back to yourself, you pulled your legs over his hips, your hands moving down the curves of his body. He slower thrust gave you time to admire him. He really was so beautiful. Looking at the sun and having to look away beautiful. His skin was reddening from effort and arousal, splotchy flushes that still couldn’t take away his perfection. The divots on his shoulders, the smell of his sweat, the taste of his spit. Fucking him felt like being completely encompassed in perfection incarnate. And you couldn’t feel luckier to have the chance to be so. He opened his pleasure screwed up eyes, those glowing blue irises, that contained so much of what everyone thought he was, looking down at you with so much trust, so much vulnerability, your heart lurched into your throat.

“You okay?” Satoru scanned your face.

You nodded, pulling him in to kiss you again, feeling his soft hair under your fingers. You held on as he increased his thrusts again. Speed, depth, power, all of it ramped back up to fainting orgasm levels.

Satoru was on the verge of tears, he couldn’t do without again. He couldn’t not cum one more time. He wouldn’t make it. He would bury himself into any hole you offered him again and again and again until he was free from this. Reaching back and pulling your leg over his shoulder, he allowed himself even deeper into you. He watched your face scrunch up in pleasure, your mouth drop open to catch hot, stolen breath from him. He wanted to make it easier, slotting his lips against yours and kissing you deep, tasting your pleasure. He swooned, his heart felt so tight and full it could burst, he was so grateful for you. For your body, your generosity, your care for him that you made look so simple. He knew he wasn’t an easy person to care about, but it seemed to him like you had never considered it cumbersome. Kissing you he felt the tears long built up by restriction begin to fall, wetting his own cheeks as well as yours.

“Satoru are y—-?” You worried against his lips, your hand in his hair moving from. A harsh grip to a soothing pet.

He shook his head, although you were right, “it’s okay. Thank you. Just thank you.”

He kissed you again and carried on thrusting, long and deep. He found your other hand and took it in his own, interlocking your fingers. Hips hard and fast, the friction not enough, he needed to touch every inch of you with every inch of himself. Your pressed against his chest as you moved to match his thrusts, putting aside the emotions that had arisen and remembering your purpose for being here. He had to break away from the kiss, pushing his forhead against yours, gasping out as you synced your thrusts together.

Oh.

Like a dim lantern in a barren desert, a non phosphorescent illusory light in a cave, the shine of climax came into his view. Still holding your hand, one of your legs over his shoulder, bending your body into a bizzare position, he chased it with everything he could. Drilling himself into your drooly, puffy pussy, again and again, causing you to cry out.

“Baby almost, cum with me, please! Pleasepleaseplease.” He squeezed your hand a bit too hard, your fingers felt cramped.

Well, they would, if you could feel them. And your leg would likely feel strained, if you could feel your hamstring still. But you couldn’t feel anything except the white hot pleasure bursting inside of you everytime he pushed against your gspot. Not breaking away from his hand, your other shot between your legs circling your clit, making you tighten up around him. Satoru cried out, the devilish squeeze of your walls felt like the last barrier between him and total bliss.

“Please baby, please.” He can’t control his voice, he doesn’t care, nothing matters when he is this close, “yes, cum around me. I need it. Cum.”

Your eyes flutter back, your head pushes against the pillow, your body erupts into cooling, overwhelming bliss.

Finally, his torment turns, the ache in his stomach unraveling. He can’t believe it, it’s finally about to be over, he feels your body shake underneath him, your hand gripping his so tightly, your cries filling his bedroom. Just at the precipice Gojo, steals one last look at your pleasure struck face, and he falls.

The lights in his bedroom bloom, swell, and overload. Bulbs bursting as he pumps himself through the most earth shattering orgasm he has ever known. Line after line of thick, long stored cum spilling from him into your waiting cunt. The room is plunged into darkness, he buries his head in your neck, panting hard.

You smile as you feel him filing you, and continue filling you. He had always cum a lot, he joked that it was his lineage begging him for continuation. But this was, beyond. Load after load of hot, desperate cum. He pushed his hips closer to you, his body yearning to become fused to yours. To never separate again.

You move one careful hand up his back, feeling the cooling sweat at his neck, the soft hair at the nape. His breath slows against your skin, but he doesn’t yet push himself off of you, keeping his heavy frame collapsed on you. But you don’t dare complain, committing the heat of his body to memory. The moonlight from the window is now, thanks to his discharge of power, the only light in the room. Your eyes adjust slowly, his features glowing in soft blue-white light. The air in the room is thick and full of both of you. Had you an eternity to indulge yourself in this moment, it would still feel too intangible to recall. But you try anyway.

Once his eyes have stopped spinning in their sockets like some knock out cartoon, Satoru pushes himself off of you, staying inside, just hovering above your body. His misty blue eyes look over every inch of you in a second. Taking in everything about this moment, how your skin reflects the moonlight, your eyes heavy and half lidded with sleep and bliss, your soft smile waiting for him to say something. But he wasn’t ready yet, he pressed his lips to yours again, firm but not desperate. He’s kissed you lavishly and with no burning sense of time. It could be called lazy if it weren’t for the focused decadence behind his mouth. He finally separates, thin silks of spit still unbroken between you two.

You brought your unheld hand to his face, cupping his cheek, watching as his eyes flutter shut. You could see tears drying on his cheeks, overwhelm and gratitude thier origin. The moon brought them forward for your viewing, you swiped a thumb under one eye. They both open under your touch, filling with something unreadable. He let go of your hand, opting to mirror your hold on your face, using one long finger to brush away a hair gelled to your sticky forehead.

“Thank you.” He reiterates, the frantic gratitudes from before nullified into a sincerity that made you nervous despite the juxtoposition of his cock still inside of you.

“Anytime, Satoru.” You can feel your cheeks heat, but your bliss doesn’t waver.

He slid out of you slowly, careful not to jostle his tingling, overstimulated length.

You both are left panting once he has been removed completely. He moved onto his side next to you, on his back, breathing up into the dark ceiling. You realize that you had no way of knowing what time it was. The thoughts of work and responsibility tomorrow we’re beginning to gnaw at the edges of your mind. You should get home soon, leave him to his new sexual freedom. You’d imagine he would be ready to pass out if he wasn’t asleep already. The expulsion of cursed energy enough to knock out the lights, enough to send him comatose.

You should know better than to underestimate him. Gojo sits up, stretching his long arms in front of him, allowing the formerly clenched back muscles to reset. Leaning back against his hands he looks down to you.

“I gotta change the bulbs and reset the fuse box. You wanna stay here? Once I’m done we can go again.” That flirty smile quickly irresistible, “orrrr, if you help me I’ll be done ever faster and I can thank you properly.”

You rolled your eyes, giggling, “I’m still recovering from the last favor I did for you. Come get me when you’re done.”

You settle back into his bed, the luxe duvet the perfect cloud-like weight on your shoulders. The smell of him clinging to every stitch of his sheets.

He moved off the bed, slipping on his underwear and making quick work of changing the burst light bulbs. This wasn’t the first time a miscalculated charge had knocked out the electrical system of his house. He had a private grid, it wasn’t that elegant but between the solar panels on the outside and a small self sustaining aquaphir underneath, it was nearly entirely self sufficient. So it was simple enough to fix when it did happen. When he switched the fuse box, the electric hum returned. Back in his bedroom he found you sleeping, curled up in his bedding, snoring softly. He moves some hair off your shoulder, fingers gentle on your thin, soft skin. Bare except for the duvet pulled over your shoulders. He crouched next to you silently, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek. He was lucky to have you, someone who would help him so readily, so selflessly. Someone he could trust and confide in. It had been a long time since he could trust someone like this. Still standing over you, he watched as your stirred, sleepy eyes opening to take him in, squinting against the refreshed lighting.

“Coming back to bed?” Your sleep riddled voice charmed.

“Oh I’m not done with you yet.” He moved into bed beside you, taking your body in his arms once again, his lips fighting home under your jaw.

He really was insatiable.

YAY!!! I hope y'all enjoyed this one. It was fun to write and fell together really easily. I am a lot less intimidated by writing gojo now. But I would love to hear yall's feedback on how it came off!! PLEASE! again, i have a much longer, more structured idea for him that I am wanting to build up to eventually so i would really love to know what yall think. Doodle <3 <3

[mars-ipan]

some postgame doodles for pride month

[stirdrawsandreblaws]

i've been offline for a bit owing to injuring part of my sternum and simultaneously dealing with mobile tumbr shitting itself so i can't check anything without being on pc

but i have been loaned a computer chair that lets me lean back and take pressure off the sternum so i can spend more time on the hellsite yay

[kuromi-hoemie]

hhhh talking about my writing was fun but 30 tags is not enough.. yes i have 3 major influences but i have minor ones too.. it is a lovechild of my favorite things.. writing is so fun and i have no self control or a concept of pacing myself i will sit there for 16 hours and get hit with every status effect but by god does it all just flow out of me. I've always been a music person yes but i also used to write a lot into early adulthood until The Incident™

but i am ready 2 jump back into it. i think comics are a great middle ground between the two mediums so i don't get As into writing bc i kind of started going crazy last time 🫡 i can take a more structured approach to it that forces me to pace myself and think about it differently. i love art.... i love making things i love knowing how to do things i love knowing how to play things i love having so many creative outlets, even if i don't do a lot of them regularly lol. it is enriching 😳 and nice to know that it's always there to come back to when u want.

[madaqueue]

EPISODE 3: A TASTE OF HONEY IN DEFEAT

satoru thought he would have no problem winning a bet he proposed, but a month is too long to go without a taste of anything this sweet.

themes/content: smut. edging, handjobs, mean-ish dom!reader, satoru being whiney lmao, premature ejaculation + he cums inside, light bondage (satoru receiving). (wk: 2.1k)

a/n: this is part of @luv-lies no-nut-november collab!!! so excited to have been a part of this, hope you all enjoy >:3

“You know I trust you, but don’t you think the ropes are a bit much?” Satoru giggles as you tighten the final knot around his wrists, shoulders bulging and arms stretched overhead.

“I know you trust me - it’s you I’m worried about, ‘Toru.”

“What, worried I won’t be able to keep my hands off you?” The smirk painting his features veers into a grimace as he winces, straining against the tightening rope.

“No. I’m worried you won’t be able to keep your hands off yourself.”

Pink lips draw into a pout. “Aw c’mon, you know I’ll be good! I’m the one who made this bet in the first place, remember?”

You hum as you tug his hands down, testing the strength of the woven cerulean adorning his skin. The headboard shakes with the movement.

“And yet, you were so willing to break the rules.”

It had been quite a sight, truly - your dear Satoru, splayed across the bed, whimpers and moans falling from his lips like honeyed rain. They landed heavy in your ears, sticky and sweet. When the door creaked open, he made no effort to stop the fervent motions of his fist up and down his cock. He was flushed from head to toe, too lost in his own pleasure to recognize the sound of your footsteps approaching. It was only when your hand rested atop his that he jerked up, clouded eyes turning apologetic.

“I know I wasn’t supposed to, I know, I just couldn’t wait-” he had babbled.

“It’s okay,” you purred, rubbing soothing circles into his skin. “But you knew the deal, remember? I’m the only one allowed to touch you this month, right, Satoru?”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry-”

“And how close you were to cumming, too.”

“I wasn’t going to, I swear-”

You hummed and squeezed his base, earning a gasp. “You know it’s not good to lie, either. Remember, you made this bet, sweetheart. Were you really so willing to throw it all away? To lose?”

“I wasn’t going to lose, I promise, I just needed something-”

He was getting worked up, panicked thoughts racing through his mind. He braced on his forearms to sit up, but with a purposeful push you guided him back onto the sheets.

“It’s okay, my love. If my poor baby is so needy, I’ll take care of you. I’ll give you something.”

His eyes widened when you pulled the ropes from under the bed, eyeing him like your next meal, a starving predator ready to pounce. And here was your prey, so ready for the taking, offering himself to you as a good piece of meat should.

And now, he’s tied up like one, too.

“I wasn’t even going to break the rules,” he whines impatiently.

Sitting back, you admire your work: your strong, determined Satoru spread and waiting. Trailing a finger down his stomach, his skin burns hot in its wake.

“That’s certainly not what it looked like to me.”

“I-”

“Because to me, it looked like you couldn’t handle going even a month without touching this needy little cock of yours.”

He pouts. “I’m not little,” he huffs.

A giggle bubbles from the back of your throat, bouncing past your lips.

“And besides, I can handle it, I swear! I made it almost the whole month, I did, I just-”

Tilting your head, you gaze down at him. “What, got too desperate? Poor Satoru, ‘The Strongest,’ couldn’t even follow the rules of a bet he made?”

Blue flashes against white as he rolls his eyes. One hand ruffles his hair, cooing down at him.

“It’s okay, baby, I’ll make you beg to break this silly little bet of yours.”

“Whatever,” he scoffs, hiding the way pink creeps up his neck and decorates his cheeks, stained like flower petals. He’s soft like them, too.

A light chuckle lands in the air when your palm grazes up his length. He twitches in your hold, warm skin on warm skin.

“H-hah, see?” His mouth hangs open between the words. “Told you I could handle it.”

It’s gentle touches at first, to ease him into it: slow strokes, light fingers. And yet, he’s still wrapping his throat around whimpers.

“Aw baby, I haven’t even done anything yet.”

Your lips curl into a smile, breath hot behind them. The words come out syrupy, dripping in sugar (and Satoru has always had a sweet tooth). His stomach aches in hunger - hunger for your hands, your body, your control. Whatever you plan to do to him, he’ll swallow it whole, bigger and bigger bites until his cheeks swell and all he can taste is you.

The grip around his base tightens, running up and down. Something about your skin is so much softer than his, untainted by the cruelty he lives through, only dirtied by desire. It spreads over his skin, glistening white and sticky.

When whines begin to twist through the silence, his eyelashes fluttering to bat away the impending tears, he doesn’t have to say it - he’s close.

Just as his muscles begin to tense, you rip your hand away.

There’s a choked little cry he lets out, hurt like an animal you spared from death. One that was ready for it, for the warmth and comfort it provided.

“Why’d you stop?” His voice is strained already, a high-pitched draw across his vocal cords. His eyes are sparkling and wet.

A peck to his cheek sends shivers down his spine. “Because you’re not supposed to finish, remember, silly? I’m just helping you hold up your end of the bet, after all.”

A sound like untuned violins, haunting and beautiful all the same, plays from his throat. You giggle at the music.

“C’mon, Toru - you wanted this, remember?”

“I know,” he grumbles, scrunching his nose. “Fine, fine, do whatever you want.”

You smile.

(You would have anyways)

Your gaze falls upon the aquamarine rope, the matching eyes, before trailing back down his steadying chest.

It stutters when your fingers trace up the veins of his cock.

It heaves when you cup a palm around his balls.

You squeeze.

“F-fuck,” he groans, hips lifting off the bed.

There’s a word living at the tip of his tongue, its shape burning into his mouth.

Harder.

Luckily, you know your Satoru - you know what he thinks, feels, wants. And as a lover should, you happily oblige.

The sound he makes is garbled and choked, utter nonsense. It came straight from the depths of his body, a pure animalistic response, one he couldn’t have controlled if he tried.

Already, he’s beginning to tremble in your palm - it’s getting easier to do this, make him shake like a lost leaf floating through the autumn air, held captive by the gusts of your wind. Up and down, he travels with you, because of you.

Again, you pull your hand away.

Again, he whines.

“Noooo,” he mumbles, more to himself than anything. It was automatic, the expression of displeasure, ripped from him with the loss of your warmth on his.

“What’s wrong baby? You want me to stop?” It’s more fun when he has an out, when he could say no and chooses not to. When he wants this just as badly as you. “You know you-”

“No.” It's more breath than sound. “No, please. Keep going.”

And as a lover should, you happily oblige.

Precum drips down his length, covering him in remnants of desire. They cling to his skin like silky webs, woven from devotion and need. Each slick pump of your hand up and down creates more and more and more, a beautiful pearl at his slit forming one moment only to be spread by your circling thumb in the next.

Each time you reach his base, you squeeze. Each time you reach his tip, you twist. In this dance you both twirl and breathe and feel in beat, holding on to one another with sweaty hands and tired muscles.

“Remember, you can give up whenever you want,” you coo, the sweet glue of a trap.

But Satoru doesn’t dare taste, doesn’t dare step inside - he knows better.

(Right?)

“I’m not - fuck - giving up.” He tries to throw you a smile, but it lands at your feet.

Fists clench into each other, nails digging into his palms. You almost feel bad, the way he’s beginning to writhe within the ropes. It must hurt, you think, the texture soft but never soft enough - it’s nothing compared to you. In spite of his anguish, he knows better than to give up this easily. You haven’t even really begun, not yet.

When his eyelashes flutter closed, you know to pull your hand away.

He’s getting more subtle, the only sign of his impending pleasure a soft flicker of white and blue. But you recognize it, of course - his pleasure lives everywhere in him. In the way his breath catches, in the way his skin burns hot, in the way he gets all too loud or all too quiet.

There’s barely a sound this time. Instead, he just frowns, displeasure spreading across his sweet features. His lower lip sticks out, and he stares at you with cloudy eyes.

“I know, baby, I know. But this is what it takes if you want to win.”

The words don’t ease the growing ache in his core, but your voice does. Every vowel blurs the pain, every consonant gives him something to cling to. He’ll climb himself out of insanity on your breath.

Again, you wrap around him and drag him closer to the edge. Unable to pull his gaze away, he stares down it, looming, waiting. The free fall must feel nice, the wind against his skin, for a moment before he hits the ground. But with a firm hand on the back of his head, you just hold him there. It’ll be his choice whether he decides to jump. Or rather, when he decides to jump.

Another choked groan leaks from his lips when you pause. There are no words left for him to say, nothing but the agony of desire. He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut as if it’ll make the leap any less tempting.

Hushed whispers, not quite praise, tingle his mind. Little hums of “I know,” or “there, there,” dance from your throat, and he writhes.

Distress always looked so pretty on him. Pretty tears, pretty red cheeks, pretty pouts and pretty cries. Perhaps it’s a curse that he looks like a fallen angel when he weeps - if he looked more grotesque, you wouldn’t feel the urge to bring him back into the jaws of pain.

But he lets you comfort him nonetheless, preen his wings and kiss his tears.

This time, when you stop, he thrashes. His skin burns, crisp like it had been warmed by the sun for too long. Everything is too tight, his hands, his arms, his shoulders, his stomach. They need to be loosened; they need to be released.

“Please.”

It’s so quiet, it’s almost not a word, just little sounds from his tongue.

“What was that, baby? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

Tears stream from glossy eyes when he looks at you. His lips quiver as he speaks.

“Please, I wanna cum. Please.”

The smile spreading across your face is cold and knowing; he looks beautiful as he falls.

“I know you want to, but-”

“I lose.” He’s panting, gasping through the plea. “I lose, I give up, I don’t care, just, please.”

Hot tears melt beneath your thumb as you swipe them away. His mouth hangs open, as though he could swallow the air, hold it inside him and let that ease the aching. But the only thing that can help him now is you, the only thing he can stomach.

“Okay, baby. I’ll take care of you.”

A loose smile flows across his face, easy like gentle waves lapping at the corners of his thoughts. The sentence itself barely makes sense to him at this point, garbled in his lust-clouded mind. But he knows you’ll help him now; he welcomes the push over the edge.

Straddling his lap, you guide him to your entrance. Sticky and hot, he presses into you. Just as his tip enters your warmth, he hurls himself into the wind.

Everything in his body trembles, muscles tightening and contracting out of time. Eyelashes flutter, whimpers dance like petals as he comes undone.

The only thing he can do is twitch inside of you, pearly strings pulsing with each erratic breath.

Finally, he opens his eyes to find you smiling. Warm lips press along his cheeks, dried tears salty on your tongue.

“Well, you certainly lost this time,” you hum, resting your forehead against his; he looks at you like you created the earth itself, your breath in the wind and your heartbeat in the sun. “But there’s always next year, right?”

[gloomwitchwrites]

thinking about the 141 when you get nipple piercings and they can’t touch your nipples for four months

For clarity, I do not have my nipples pierced. Don't ever plan on it, but we can imagine that we did and what the guys think. I did do a little research, and I saw a wide variety of healing times, so instead of four months, I kept any mention of the healing process vague. The concept is the same though. I had a lot of fun with this one y'all. Enjoy it. :)

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Presented in four double drabbles.

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, brief dirty talk, suggestive themes, swearing, fade to black

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

"You're not putting a shirt on."

“What are you talking about?”

“We’re at home. And I want to see them.”

“I’m putting a shirt on,”

John is quick, snatching the shirt out of your grasp. You start to protest, but John tosses it onto the highest shelf in the closet.

“You’re childish.” You gesture at the rest of the shirts on hangers. “And I have other shirts!”

John shrugs. “I’ll hide them all.”

"I fucking swear, John."

"Or tear them all up."

You smack his chest but John only chuckles. He’s having a go at you. A laugh.

"If I can't touch them, then I bloody well better be able to see them."

"You're ridiculous."

John carefully caresses a nearby path of skin near the piercing. "You got them for me," he purrs. "And I want to see them on display at all times." His hand settles on your waist, drawing you in. He leans in, lips lightly pressed to your ear. “Especially when my head is between your legs.”

Heat rapidly warms your neck, heading for your cheeks. John notices your sudden flustered demeanor.

“That sound good to you, love?”

You nod, and John guides you to the bed.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

"I can't touch them?" asks Kyle, sounding disappointed.

"Nope."

"Not at all?”

“Eventually. But not right now.”

Kyle frowns at your chest, his gaze on the shiny metal. "Do they hurt?"

You wince slightly. "Mostly sore. The pain killers help."

Kyle nods and then glances up at your face. "How do you care for them?"

You rattle off a list of things and then hand him the paper the piercer gave you. Kyle takes it, looking it over as you go over everything, repeating it verbatim.

The small frown on his face turns into an upward smirk. "I can help with this,” he says, voice almost sultry.

"You can," you say slowly, taking the paper and placing it on the counter.

"So I can touch them. If I help.”

"Not in the way you're thinking, Kyle," you scold, knowing exactly where his mind is drifting off to.

"But I still get to touch them?"

"Only to help me,” you correct. “Not for any other reason.”

He sighs, voice a little breathy as he speaks to himself. “I can wait to suck on those gorgeous nipples.”

“Kyle Garrick! I heard that!”

He snags the paper off the counter, hiding his grin.

John "Soap" MacTavish

“You’re having a laugh.”

“Am I?”

"I can't touch them?"

"Nope."

"Not even a little bit?"

"No, Johnny. Not even a little bit."

Johnny lays on his side facing you with one elbow propped under him. He rests his head in his hand. Johnny’s gaze is locked on to your bare chest and the new metal there. The piercings are only a few days old, and they’re fucking sore.

"They're sensitive right now," you continue, wincing slightly when you move, adjusting the way you recline on the bed.

"Aye. I see," he murmurs, leaning closer, gaze narrowing as he focuses on your new piercings. The middle of his brow creases as if he's intensely considering something.

"What is it?" you ask. "You look very serious."

Johnny's gaze doesn't leave your chest. "I'm thinking about all the ways I'm going to play with those beauties."

Heat rushes to your face. “Be fucking for real right now.”

His mouth morphs into a sly smile. Johnny’s gaze shifts from your chest to your face. “Need a distraction?”

“What are you on about?”

Johnny shifts, forcing your legs open as he slots between them. “A distraction,” he purrs. “From your soreness. And my thoughts.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon stands behind you, watching you in the bathroom mirror from over your shoulder.

"Do you need help?" he asks, gaze unmoving.

"I'm fine, Simon."

He is quiet a moment before he speaks again. "I can’t touch them?"

"Not for a month. Possibly more. Healing is different for everyone."

You hear his annoyed grunt but his gaze doesn't leave you. It remains firmly planted on your newly pierced nipples.

"How sensitive are you?" he asks, taking a tiny step closer. Simon’s hand rests on your waist as you gently clean around the piercing.

"I’m sore. Nothing terrible."

Simon's head dips, lips pressing to your neck as his arms drape around you. "I can't touch them." It’s not a question, more like he’s speaking to himself.

"Nope,” you murmur.

Simon’s sigh has a hint of a growl in it. "Just means I'll have to give extra attention to everything else." His hands descend, and you bite back a groan as he touches you.

Simon's lips press to your ear. "I'll give you attention everywhere.” One hand comes up to trace a line near the piercing. “Except here.” His hand drops away, returns to between your legs. “You’ll be begging for me.”

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

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@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

! ── BABY DADDY!JASON TODD who can't come around more than once or twice a year. His way of life isn't sustainable for a home, and it certainly isn't safe for a daughter. You and him decided it was best to part ways before that positive pregnancy test, and since he discovered a kid he helped make it didn't change his level of involvement. He's got a lot of eyes on him, and he can't draw attention to anything important to him.

! ── Your daughter adores him. She squeals with delight every time he visits, running full barrel towards him so he can scoop her up. Unbeknownst to her your concern with how he found you again, and how he broke in to the apartment. Apparently running and hiding is not enough when you face the Red Hood. You reluctantly greet him with a half-assed kiss on the cheek, wrapping your arm around his neck to incline him towards you. Your daughter on his hip takes full advantage of hugging you both at the same time, and pressed against your former lover makes you tight-lipped.

! ── He's dangerous for a number of reasons that span beyond what any angry enemy of his would do if they found out where he's been going. You're most afraid of what he's able to make you do the longer you're with him. Only able to hold onto your anger for so long until he melts that cold exterior and somehow convinces you to let him warm your bed again.

! ── He's got it down to a science. As soon as you give him that scathing look, he tells your daughter to run along because "Mommy and Daddy have to talk." while she thoughtfully strokes his chin with her little hand, only to nod with an audible sigh, shaking out her wild hair she won't let you brush. With a little push to her back, she scampers off to her room and he stands to his full height. "I just wanted to see her." he tells you, with that pleading tone you've fallen for countlessly because he knows you're going to say: "It's not safe." for the thousandth time.

! ── He'll tower over you, incline towards you while you scold him under your breath. A hushed argument ensues that your daughter tries to listen in on, and can only hear bits and pieces about how she's not owned, and her dad should get to see her. Stuff she doesn't understand, especially because she can't understand his lack of presence being such a complicated thing when she has no sense of object permanence. If a dad refuses to be there more, it's a problem. You want to cut Jason out completely. That's not fair, as he'll tell you, to the daughter you get to keep.

! ── It's in the way he stands next to you. He's so much taller than you, broader, and muscled. He bulks up more and more every time you see him. He doesn't use his size to intimidate you, rather takes advantage of something else. Big hands stuffed in his back pockets make his leather jacket sit on his wide shoulders exquisitely. His hair is windblown from his motorbike and just the smell of him has a dangerous Pavlov effect on you. Like your eyes want to flutter as they roll into the back of your head and lightning shoots straight down to your core, stinging at the memory of what it's like to be filled by him. The longer you're with him, the thinner your resolve becomes. It evaporates in front of you as he sweeps a hand through his hair, and his posture slacks. "C'mon." he drags out the word playfully, advancing on you. Your hand interrupts him, bracing on his firm chest to keep him from coming closer. "Can't we talk about something else? You're getting me all worked up. Missed you."

You roll your jaw, that resolve slipping. Addicted to him, you're reticent as his tongue darts out to wet his lips while he's eyeing yours. "Jay..." you murmur, and he can hear the defeat in your voice.

! ── "Lucky we got a sitter, huh?" Jason's smug voice cuts through the wet sounds of sex that fills the room. "Now I get some time with my other little girl." That sick delight causes you to reach back, weakly banging your fist against his thigh. He snickers, wolfish and husky resounding from the back of his throat. "Mommy's been missing me, huh? Can feel her clenching down on me like a fuckin' vice."

His thick cock hurts stretching you out, but you needed that pain. There's something about Jason that keeps you saying yes, and it pushed through your requirement of foreplay, unbuckling that belt in haste, comfort be damned you wanted that dick. You're on all fours and he's giving it to you from the back, just how you like it, fucking you like a dog while his hand tangles all up in your hair. He yanks you back by it, and you can't even think of what to say other than mindless pleasured babbles.

"You let me do this every time I come over. Seems like you fuck with me or something." It's true, regardless of the cruel insults you've thrown at him to get him to stay away from you, it's all because you can't say no to him. It's the reason you got pregnant, it's the reason you can't run away far enough, and it's the reason you fuck him every time he comes to visit the kid he helped make.

[sugurusyndrome]

cw/tags: househusband!nanami, fluff, smut, fem!reader

— oh househusband!nanami my love…

househusband!nanami initially resisted the idea of being a stay at home husband when you first proposed it. aghast, he might even say. he couldn’t fathom the possibility of being dependent upon your income. not that his masculinity was threatened or anything of the sort. you were the one supposed to be spoiled while he does the hard work.

your husband was traditional in a quite endearing sense. bless his giant heart and his even bigger cock.

“darling, i want to do this. for us,” you had gently insisted. reaching forward, you took off his spectacles and brushed a hand around his cheek. “you deserve to be pampered, too.”

househusband!nanami was exhausted from the long hours over many years and he knew his wife was sorely aware of that fact. he leaned into your touch, hazel eyes slipping shut.

“alright, my love.”

it took some adjusting to his new role during the first few days. when your alarm rang, you swiftly silenced it so he wouldn’t wake up. looking over your shoulder, you find his side of the bed empty.

househusband!nanami had gotten dressed as usual before remembering he didn’t need to work anymore. instead of going back to bed, he whipped up a breakfast feast fit for a queen. he also sent you off to your big-shot job with a kiss and your lunch.

soon enough, this became a routine. a hearty breakfast followed by a “see you later” kiss—kento didn’t like saying goodbye, it’s always “see you later.” househusband!nanami wanted to bring a smile to your hectic days so he stuck an adorable note in his neat handwriting squarely on your lunchbox. he never ran out of words to express his love for you.

househusband!nanami was finally able to tackle the books that had accumulated on his side of the bedroom but never had the chance to read. you could only imagine how he looked like, all cozy. in the nook of the living room where the sun shone best, he had one leg tucked under his body with his glasses perched on his sharp nose.

when he was not devouring words, househusband!nanami was taking himself on a stroll in the neighbourhood with a cup of a pick-me-up coffee. once, he passed a park and sat at a bench watching the mothers playing with their children with a soft smile. however, he quickly walked away because he realized his presence as a sole man just lingering at the edge of the park might be a cause of concern for the mothers. you giggled later over dinner when he recounted his thoughts to you. what a thoughtful man you married.

you wanted to give him 10 children.

if not books or a stroll in the neighbourhood, househusband!nanami was doing his duty ever so happily between your legs.

"k-ken..." you whimpered, back arching gracefully while your nails scraped his undercut in a way that made him growl into your pussy. he knew how much you loved the vibrations as much as he went crazy for your nails on his scalp. "missed this pussy today....mmm...” he captured your clit in a wet, hungry kiss. “take tomorrow off for me, sweetheart.”

this part of the night quickly cemented its spot as his favourite. to absolutely neither of your surprises.

househusband!nanami became fast friends with the owners of your favourite bakery. they already knew him from his frequent visits after his long shifts to pick up something sweet for his wife but the more he hung out there, the closer he got with the bakers. you were particularly fond of the strawberry shortcake from there and what did he do? oh yes, he learned how to make it. everything was from scratch down to the syrup. by the end of it he was sticky but super excited to surprise you with it for your birthday.

"honey, those better be happy tears," he chuckled, drawing you into a tender hug. either that, or the cake turned out to be a disaster.

"of course they are, kento!" you blubbered in his chest. strawberry syrup and whipped cream was smeared around your mouth, mixing with your tears.

oh, how you adored this man to his bare bones. and he devotedly breathed in the very air you exhaled.

[bi-writes]

mmm. being the final girl in ghost's slasher movie (dark!ghost x curvy!fem!reader, 18+)

his laughter shakes you to your core. you're cornered, in the very back bedroom under the bed, staring at the dull gaze of your roommate as she bleeds out on the floor.

she's gurgling. she coughs up mouthfuls of blood, and they trail down her neck like a spider web until it pools underneath her head, making the strands of her hair red and sticky. the slit across her throat sputters, and you watch as the white painted bones on the back of his gloves drips with the pretty crimson color. if it wasn't so cruel, if it wasn't blood, it might be artistic.

he takes a thumb and smears the blood over her skin. he draws shapes into her forehead and then both of her cheeks, and you clamp a hand over your mouth to stop from crying as she gasps, reaching up with a shaky hand, halfheartedly trying to push him off, but she's too weak.

he hums when he finishes, and your eyes well up with tears when he knocks her head to the side so she's facing you. he's written three words on her face, one word on her forehead, and then the rest on her cheeks, in her own blood.

I SEE YOU

you scream when he shifts, grabbing onto your ankles and yanking. you claw at the hardwood floor, trying desperately to get away from him, but it's no use. he has you, he found you.

no matter where you go, you've never been able to hide. no matter how far away you think you've gone, it never matters. no matter how long you go without hearing from him, it isn't a comfort, because that usually means the inevitable is coming.

he will never leave you alone. you will never get away. he will find you, he will have you, and every time you escape, it is always just him giving you the illusion of freedom, when in reality, he can have you as easily as he did before.

"givin' me a right headache, luvvie," he murmurs, flipping you over with not so much as a grunt and sitting on your hips. you squirm under him, but this behemoth of a man isn't something you can just push off of you. he's big and heavy, and with all his gear on, he must be thirty pounds heavier. you eye the gun strapped to his chest, but even at this distance, you know it won't matter.

ghost cannot die. that's how he got his fucking name. you've sunk a knife into his stomach before, you've shot him once, you've pushed him off of cliffs and down elevator shafts and watched him sink to the bottom of the fucking ocean, but he cannot die, he won't die, he will never leave me.

"fuck you," you spit, and he chuckles, pulling one of his throwing knives out of his boot and using it to pop the first button off the front of your shirt. it clatters somewhere in the bedroom, and ghost snarls when he sees the lace of your bra.

"expectin' someone?" he growls. "oi! look at me."

you glare up at him, tears sliding down your cheeks, and he uses the sharp edge to pop the rest of the buttons off, your shirt in tatters as it lays loose around your arms. he grunts as he sneaks it under where the cups meet, pulling upwards until he cuts the lace in half. you mewl when your tits bounce, falling free, and his pupils dilate.

"mmmm..." he pushes his mask up, leaning down, and you arch your back when he wraps his lips around one nipple and suckles. you reach up without thinking, your hands finding the back of his head and cradling it as he practically feeds on the fat of your breasts. "know how much you like tha'..."

you whine, and he lets go, pushing the front of his mask into your cheek, licking the skin. you scrunch your face, dirty fucking animal, and he mouths at your jaw.

"'f y'were just a good girl, wouldn't hafta do this," he taunts. you squirm when he lowers himself again, paying attention to the other breast and sucking it into his mouth. "y'make me do it, swee'eart. make me hurt sorry muppets...they're keepin' y'from me. and y'know tha' isn't allowed."

you cry out when he flips you over under him. he shoves your face into the floor, tangling his hand into your hair and yanking on it so that you're looking at your dead roommate, her eyes dull and lifeless as she lays there turning cold.

"look wot y'did," he growls. "look wot y'made me do."

she looks sort of pretty. she did annoy the shit out of you, you won't lie. she looks happier this way. quiet, relaxed, still. it's cathartic, to know that maybe this is what she was meant for. to die, that was her purpose. it makes a little sense.

"'m sorry," you whisper, and ghost loosens his grip on your hair. "'m sorry..."

he kisses the side of your neck, laughing a little.

"now y'r sorry," he says, amused. "y'r mine. when are y'going to learn tha'?"

you put your palms onto the floor, trying to turn over. he eases his weight up to let you, leaning down and putting both hands on either side of your head as he looks down at you. you meet his eyes, sniffling, and you shake your head.

"w-was scared."

"scared?" he tilts his head to the side, licking over his teeth. "scared of wot? would do anythin' for ya."

"i-i know," you sniffle. "just...n-never had anyone that...that would. i-i...i've never had anyone s-so good to me."

he grins, and you shiver a little, but not from fear.

"awww," he shakes his head. "y'r a bad liar, luv."

"i'm not lying--!"

he leans down, licking over your bottom lip, and you whimper.

"prove it," ghost rasps, and you blink up at him, swallowing hard. you push on his chest a little so he eases off of you, and you hook your thumbs into your jeans and shimmy them off. ghost watches carefully, his eyes flickering when you lay bare underneath him, and you bring your knees up before letting them fall. he licks his lips, his grin widening, and he meets your eyes when he sees what he likes. "bloody hell, y'r soaking the fuckin' floor, swee'eart."

you bite your lip, a little shy, and he grips your throat firmly before tugging you up to meet him. he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek, stroking your sweaty hair and humming low.

"y'r gonna run again, aren't ya, baby?"

you nod, closing your eyes, and you let a soft moan slip out when he settles between your spread legs, pressing his pelvis to yours. you feel that familiar hardness, digging into your sex, and you can't help the grind of your hips, wanting to get closer, needing to have more of him. he might be the craziest motherfucker you have ever known, and it's a shame he fucks like a pornstar.

you open your eyes, reaching down, and he smiles wickedly when you unzip his pants, shoving them low until his cock is free. like he knew this would happen, he's been leaking into his boxers, and when you pull him out, the tip is red and wet.

you squeeze your thighs around his waist when he sinks into you, grunting when his thighs press to yours, burying himself deep. you cry, your back bowing sharply, and he smooths his gloved hand down your bare stomach, licking his lips when he trails streaks of blood down your soft skin.

"'s olright," ghost mutters, "quite like chasin' ya. makes y'r cunny taste better. makes y'so fuckin' tight, too, fuck--"

"yeah--" you gasp, and he smiles again, disgusting, filthy, murderous, terrifying.

"say it. say it, and maybe i'll forgive this lil' stunt, and maybe i'll let y'cum." your eyes roll back, and he grips your face tight. "oi! say it!"

"i'm yours! fuck--yes! i'm yours..."

[thepigeonhasapen]

Finding Them When They're Trapped: Olympian Edition (NSFWish)

(I promise I'm working on requests but the horny bug bit ok)

🩷Aphrodite🩷

"Oh, darling, I'm afraid something simply tragic has happened. One of my suitors has taken advantage of me and left me like this!"

"...In your own bedchamber?"

Aphrodite waves a hand. As well as she's able to with the short chain connecting it to the bedpost anyway. "Sweetheart, it's sex. We don't need to apply logic to it."

"...I see." You sit next to Aphrodite, admiring the way the restraints draw her body into long, smooth curves. She wriggles in her chains, a deliberate enticement. An enticement too is the way she's looking at you, lashes fluttering and eyes locked sweetly upon your own.

"As I was saying..."

"Yes, yes, a horrible man left you tied to a bed and now I'm here to take advantage of that fact?"

"You do catch on quick, my dear."

⚔️Ares⚔️

Ares does not think this is funny. Unfortunately for Ares it is objectively pretty funny.

He glares at you from the bed, squirming against his chains. "Stop laughing and let me loose."

"I can't believe Aphrodite just left you like this!" You giggle. "I'm pretty sure she just straight up forgot you were here actually."

You can tell Ares is positively fuming about the whole thing. The headboard creaks as he yanks at the cuffs, but all the furniture upon Olympus is far too durable to break that easily. He glares at you once more and then sighs.

"Will you please set me free? I have something I wish to discuss with our dear Aphrodite."

Aphrodite has been so kind as to leave your favorite god naked, and you take advantage of this by resting your hand on his groin. You don't miss the sharp intake of breath when your skin touches his own.

"But it would be such a shame to let you go when I already have you here like this."

"I... be that as it may, I-" Ares's pupils blow wide with lust as you swing onto the bed to straddle his lap.

"Aphrodite isn't going anywhere. And-" You laugh. "Neither are you apparently."

"I suppose... my evening might still be salvageable after all."

🏹Artemis🏹

How embarrassing... to get caught in one of her own traps. Artemis is never going to live this down if anyone finds out about it. Too late for her, though, you've already found out about it.

"It's not funny! I just forgot where I set it, okay? Now let me down so we can both forget this ever happened."

Perhaps Artemis might be more intimidating if she wasn't blushing so fiercely. Oh yeah, and hanging upside-down by her ankle from a tree branch. That too.

"So if you're the prey, what's hunting you then? A deer? A bunny?"

You didn't think it was possible but Artemis blushes even harder. "Yeah, yeah, just get me down."

"Deal... but in exchange for not telling anyone about this, you'll owe me."

If looks could kill, not only would you be dead, you'd have been vaporized from existence. You start to walk away. "Or I guess you could just wait for somebody else to come by... Hermes, maybe?"

It doesn't take long for Artemis to break. "Okay, okay, deal! Now cut me loose before somebody sees."

As you're helping her down, Artemis shoots you another dirty look. "You’re just lucky I've got a soft spot for you."

🦉Athena🦉

One of the last places you expect to find Athena is stuck in a hole in the ground, but here you are. She looks up at you, visibly relieved to catch sight of you.

"Hail, Y/N. It would seem the Lady Artemis is leaving her pit traps strewn about the grounds. Again. I really must have a word with her about it. But first I require your assistance."

"Oh yeah? I hope you're not expecting me to carry you out of that hole." Look, Athena's like twice your size. You love her but it's just not gonna happen.

"No, nothing of the sort. If you could run to Hephaestus's workshop and fetch a ladder..."

You sit down at the edge of the hole, elbows resting on your knees. "I might do that. But to be honest, it's kinda hot seeing you be bested every once in a while."

"I was not bested. This was no battle of wills. This was my foolish half-sister being careless once again."

"Still... you being trapped is kinda doing it for me."

Athena sighs. "If you fetch me a ladder, I swear I will let you tie me up to your heart's content. Do we have an arrangement?"

"Done."

And you can't wait to take her up on that.

❄️Demeter❄️

"I'm going to kill that wretched foster brother of mine. We'll see if he can still throw his precious lightning bolts when he's encased in ice."

You've stumbled across Demeter cuffed to the railing of her balcony. You don't quite know what happened, but Zeus had something to do with it from the sounds of it.

"He told me I ought to get more sun! That it would be good for me! Put a smile on my face! Pah, as if there's anything to smile about upon this blasted mountain."

"Ahem," you say.

Demeter softens. "Ah... my apologies. Of course you give me cause to smile quite often."

"Would it make you smile if you said you looked cute in those cuffs?"

Demeter doesn't look in the slightest bit amused. "It most decidedly would not."

"Ah."

🍇Dionysus🍇

Dionysus had asked you to meet you in his vineyard but how strange, he doesn't seem to be here. Well, since you're here, you may as well look around. As you wander deeper through the plants, you hear rustling and the sounds of someone struggling.

He looks almost sheepish when you find him, half-buried in foliage with rogue vines twined around his limbs.

"Hey, so uh... there may have been a little... incident. Would you mind maybe lending a hand?"

"Don’t you have control over grapevines?"

"...These are special grapevines, yeah?"

And how kind of the vines to splay him out so beautifully. And to let him take off his cape first. And that all of his usual retinue is conveniently absent.

Dionysus shivers when you run a hand down his muscled chest. "And how exactly am I meant to help you if even a god as powerful as you can't set yourself free?" You stop just above where you're certain he wants you to touch him. "Shall I fetch someone to help?"

Dionysus whines when you remove your hand. "You’re such a damn tease, man! Just have your way with me already."

"I'm a tease? I'm not the one who's tied myself up in hopes of being ravaged."

"If you want we can switch places." Dionysus offers playfully.

"Hmm. Maybe later." You think you're gonna pass this up? Not a chance.

🪽Hermes🪽

You didn't expect to find the Messenger of the Gods tangled in a bunch of vines, but to be perfectly fair you're pretty sure he didn't intend for you to find him like that either.

"Oh, hi there, boss. I seem to have encountered a spot of trouble here but don't you worry, I'll be out in a jiffy."

He squirms, trying to free himself, but he's really just making the problem worse. Something he soon figures out when he sighs and looks helplessly at you.

"Don’t suppose you'd care to lend a hand?"

"Haha, oh alright," you manage through your giggles. "Hold on just a moment."

"Kinda can't do anything else," he points out.

You wade into the bushes, reaching for the vines that ensnare his wrist. Unfortunately, there's a bit more of them than you bargained for. One catches on your foot and you go tumbling forward, knocking both you and Hermes to the ground.

"Shit, sorry!"

But Hermes doesn't look as bothered as you thought he would. It's probably because your hand has landed squarely on his groin. You hadn't quite been sure if he was blushing before, but now he most certainly is.

He's not quite looking at you as he says, "You know it would really be a shame for you to let an opportunity like this go to waste, you know."

...He makes a valid point.

🔱Poseidon🔱

"Damn that blasted nephew of mine! I swear when I catch him, I'll- oh hello, dear! Would you mind helping your favorite sea god out of the predicament he's found himself in?"

You laugh. You can't help it; Poseidon looks absolutely ridiculous looking at you upside-down from the floor. Somehow he's ended up wrapped head to toe in chains, his arms pinned behind his back and his legs bound firmly together.

"What happened here?"

"That good for nothing nephew of mine, Hephaestus swore to me that he'd created chains so powerful that nothing could break them! I, of course, had to put such notions to rest. Nothing can overpower the might of the sea! Anyway, I uh..."

"So you let Hephaestus do this to you?"

You've never seen Poseidon look quite so flustered. "I, er... well, we don't need to linger on the past. Why don't you set me free and we can both go out to a nice dinner?"

"Not a chance, sea god." You drop to the floor beside him, greedily taking advantage of a sight you so rarely get to see. The might of Poseidon, bound. And looking quite handsome in his chains if you do say so yourself. "I think I've got a better idea than dinner."

It doesn't take Poseidon but a moment to catch your drift. "Ha! You best take advantage of the moment then because I don't imagine it'll be happening again."

Maybe. Or maybe Hephaestus will let you borrow these chains from time to time...

⚡️Zeus⚡️

It's funny... this situation that you've found Zeus in almost seems... familiar.

"Curses! Damnit... that blasted, darn Hephaestus... and my foul brother. I shall have both their heads for this, I swear..."

"Whatcha doin'?"

You've never seen the King of the Gods blush before. And certainly not so fiercely. "I um... well, I've run into a spot of bother. And it is entirely the fault of that wretched brother of mine. He insisted that these chains were unbreakable. Naturally, I had to show him the error of his ways. None can stand against the power of the heavens!"

Well, apparently being a cocky, arrogant idiot runs in the family. You drop to a crouch beside him, unable to keep the amused grin off your face. "And how's that working out for you?"

"Yes, yes," he huffs, "I can have a sense of humor like any other. You've all had your laugh. Now let me loose."

You reach down and squeeze between his legs, just enough that Zeus's eyes start to go hazy. He won't get mad at you for the imposition; he thinks far too much with his cock for that. "Oh, but I never get to top."

Zeus looks as if he's already having trouble formulating words. "Well... maybe just this once..."

Once? Not if you can help it.

[moonstruckme]

im literally in lovee with your writing of sirius black id love love love more of him x reader pleasee [my favourite is friends to lovers or just being super domestic but tbh I'd read anything u write with him in lmaoo]

Thank you for requesting lovely! It worked out that I'd just written this when I got your ask, so I hope it fits what you're wanting!

cw: reader has hair long enough to tie back

Sirius Black x whimsical!reader ♡ 833 words

Sirius finds you out behind Remus’ house, sitting in the grass and, by all appearances, playing with mud. 

“Hey there,” he says, “did you manage to find the bathroom?” 

You have a tendency to wander off. Sometimes it’s intentional, sometimes you get lost, and Sirius can never tell which is happening at any given time. As much as he’d like to tie a string between you so you’re never very far, he’s learned to let you go where you will; you always end up where you want to be anyways. 

“You were talking about football,” you say by way of answer, the slightest hint of sheepishness in your sweet voice. “I thought you wouldn’t mind if I went off for a bit.” 

Sirius hums and lowers himself onto the grass beside you, stretching his legs out. The sun is warm and welcome on his face, just enough breeze to keep it from getting too hot. 

It’s a beautiful day, you’d noted upon waking up this morning, already opening the windows in his bedroom. 

Looks like it, Sirius said from bed. He smiled wryly. It’ll probably be the last decent one we have all year.

You’d frowned. That’s not a very nice way to manifest the weather. 

While Sirius is upturned, you’re bent over, messing with something in your hands and dipping your fingers occasionally into a pail of water. 

“What’ve you got there, pretty girl?” 

“A mug,” you say simply. You thumb concentratedly at the slimy thing in your hands, lips pursing. “Or, a soon-to-be-mug.” 

“And you’re making it out of…mud?” 

“No,” you laugh, looking up at your boyfriend in that fond, indulgent way you have. Like he can be so silly sometimes. “Remember how Remus said there was clay by the stream back that way? I’m using some of that.” 

“Ah.” Sirius tilts his head, studying the misshapen lump in your hands. “I see. And this is going to be a drinking mug?” 

You hum in affirmation, and he leaves it at that. He’s not terribly sure whatever you end up with will be able to hold water, but he knows better than to try and dissuade you once you’ve set your mind to something. Maybe he can sign the both of you up for a pottery class sometime. 

A piece of hair falls from behind your ear, and you blow at it, trying to keep it out of your face with your hands occupied.

“Here,” Sirius offers. He takes an elastic off his wrist, gathering the hair away from your face and tying it back loosely the way you like it. 

You gift him a sideways smile in return. A bit of dried clay on your cheek cracks with the movement. Evidently, this isn’t the first time you’ve had to push your hair back. “Thank you.” 

“Baby,” he says, voice laden with fondness. He steadies your face with one hand, swiping at the clay with the other. “You’ve got it all over you.” 

It’s true. It covers your hands up past your wrists, and several places on your legs have pale gray tracks where you’ve wiped your fingers off on them. 

“It’s a messy business,” you say matter-of-factly, “but it dries sort of pretty, I think. Do you want some?” 

He cocks an eyebrow. “How do you mean?” 

You set your soon-to-be-mug down gingerly, extending a hand to him. “Give me your arm.” 

Sirius suppresses a sigh. He didn’t really plan on getting dirty today, but he’s hardly in the habit of denying you anything you ask for. He sets his forearm in your hand. 

You dip a finger into the wettest part of your clay, setting it to the skin above his wrist. Your touch is cool and slick on his sun-warmed skin. You draw a little star like you’re fingerpainting, the clay a funny contrast to the dark tattoos surrounding it. 

You look so pleased with your work that Sirius can’t help himself. He leans forward, giving you a drawn-out, amorous kiss. 

“Thank you,” he says in his most saccharine voice. 

Your lashes flutter prettily as you blink, a rare shy smile taking you. “You’re welcome.” 

Sirius dips two fingers into your pail of water, using them to wipe the remaining clay off your cheek more thoroughly. When he’s done, he spots another smudge on your shoulder, inexplicable. He tsks. “When you’re done with your mug, we might have to ask Remus if you can use his shower, lovely girl. You really do have it all over you.” 

“Oh, there’s no need to trouble him,” you say airily. “The stream’s not very far, and it’s flowing rather quickly with all the rain we’ve been having.” 

He blinks. “Did you bring your swimsuit?”

You look at him bemusedly. “No. Why?” 

Sirius bends his head, letting his hair fall like a curtain to conceal his smile as he kisses the clean part of your shoulder. “I think it’d be better if you used Remus’ shower, sweetheart. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

[drowning-rabbit]

a drawn-out lullaby: spencer reid x artist!reader

an extension of my artist!reader and spencer headcanons, found here

word count: 0.8k

summary: fluff; you gift spencer an early christmas present in the hopes that it will help him fall asleep

“i know you can’t sleep, spence.” your voice rang out into the silence of the pitch black bedroom. it had been the only sound for hours - other than violent shuffling from the other side of the bed.

spencer winced back at you, half-taken over by his exhausted body and half-cursed awake by his brilliant mind. he shifted every five minutes, unable to quiet the constant drone of thoughts. every time he shut his eyes, visions of past memories flowed through them like a motion-picture movie in high definition. so far, nothing could lighten the weight settled permanently on his chest. that was the unfortunate downside of his career choice. spencer can’t forget.

it was hard to quiet your own mind with the frosty air poking at every exposed piece of skin. it kept you awake. his apartment was older, so the single pane windows frosted over on the coldest days. the ache of seeing spencer restless didn’t help. you knew it got harder around the holidays, since he usually couldn’t make it back home to visit his mom. the nightmares would come more often, and spencer began to dread sleep. you placed a hand on his exposed shoulder to keep from startling him.

“can i give you a christmas present early? i think it’ll help,” you whispered in fear he did happen to fall asleep.

he hummed back in question, still drowsy. when you paused, he lifted his hand to cover yours and give it an affirming squeeze.

“can you roll over for me?” you asked softly and squeezed his hand back.

he turned to lay on his stomach as you rose from the bed, digging through the closet for a minute before triumphantly raising a grocery bag in the dark.

the rustling of plastic caught spencer’s attention. he opened his eyes as you poured three black markers out onto the nightstand.

“i thought i could try drawing, on your skin. you were talking about that study you read the other day, about the benefit of repetitive motion for falling asleep. like how adults have an easier time sleeping when they’re rocked to sleep like babies or something? and i looked into it so i thought maybe the motion of the felt tip on your skin would help you fall asleep? my mom used to trace on my back with her fingers when i was little, and i always loved that and if you don’t like it it’s okay, they’re skin safe and-“

he brought a finger to his lips to quiet your rambling before running the same hand through his messy hair. he was baffled by the fact that you had researched for his benefit, to help him sleep. every remedy he had found in studies for nightmares and insomnia was insufficient. he had given up, but you kept trying. it was only three markers, but he felt so seen and so loved.

“i love you.” he whispered, “so much that i will never be able to fully express it to you.”

“you think it will help? i love you too,”

“as long as you’re sure they’re body safe and nontoxic. i trust you and i adore you. and i think your research is sound and i’m quite exhausted so i’m willing to try anything.” spencer closed his eyes again in defeat, too tired to tell you all the things he normally would.

so you uncapped one of the markers and pulled the blanket down to his boxers. he shivered slightly from the icy december air. you ran one hand down his back a few times to calm him before beginning to draw.

the doodles came mindlessly. first a little star in the center of his shoulder blades, followed by the branches, needles, and trunk of a christmas tree.

spencer flinched the first few times the marker grazed his skin, but he kept to his word and trusted you as you continued. the tree received a little garland and a few ornaments as you tried to create a smooth rhythm.

when you finished the bow on the first present, you felt spencer’s breathing deepen. before long, an entire christmas tree marked the length of your boyfriend’s back. the image raised and lowered with every even breath he took.

“spence?” you spoke almost silently, but received no response. assured he was asleep, you finished the drawing with i love you scrawled beneath the wrapped gifts.

finally. spencer’s endless thoughts had been overtaken with his need to rest. his body had drifted into sleep, just as you thought it would when you spotted the markers in the store. you loved spencer with every inch of your body. you wanted him to feel safe with you the same way you did with him. if all it took was a few strokes of a marker, you’d happily spend the rest of your life recreating the louvre on his skin.

with the cap on the marker and the blankets pulled up over his back, you crawled into bed next to spencer. as you drifted into sleep, you felt him find your hand and lace his fingers through yours.

[zyafics]

BROTHER'S RIVAL | 03

MASTERLIST (Series)

Pairing — Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — You and your brother were born Pogues, but once your family made enough to move to Figure Eight, you became a Kook. Unfortunately, Rafe doesn't welcome Pogue-born Kooks. It doesn't help that your brother is determined to steal the 'King of Kook' title from him. So, if your brother is attempting to steal something from him, Rafe will return the favor.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, and usage of drugs.

Rafe: i don't like being ignored after giving u the best orgasm of ur life

You didn't expect to see that message flash on your screen. Especially since you're with your brother, helping him load all the shit he bought from Heyward's into the back of his truck. You didn't even know he got a truck.

Lowering your brightness, you type back a haste reply.

You: don't type that shit Dean sometimes reads my text

Rafe: but it's true

You: that's an overstatement

Rafe: how about you come over here and we'll test that?

You: no, thanks i'm with my brother

Rafe: maybe he should fuck off

You roll your eyes at the message, just as your brother calls your name. Slipping the phone into your back pocket, where you are positive Dean won't be able to reach, you turn back to see him standing on the trunk of his truck with his arms outstretched.

"Did you hear me? Bring me the next case." He declares, his tone chipped with semi-annoyance at your distraction. You were about the grab the box, but with his attitude, you decided to put your hand on your waist and stare him down instead.

"Do I look like a dog to you? Say it nicer."

Dean sighs but doesn't argue back. Rather, he prepares himself to lunge through the next few words. "My dearest sister, the light of my life, the only person in the world who I would kill for, can you pass me the goddamn beer?"

Close enough.

You reach for one of the cases of booze set near your feet and hand it off to Dean, who easily takes it off of you and stacks it in the back of his cargo bed with the rest.

"I still don't understand the plan here." You confess, picking up another box and starting a momentum. "You're going to host a party, so what? What does that gotta do with anything?"

Your brother decided that he wanted to start hosting parties at your house. Since now he's intersecting himself into more Kook spaces, he wants to also start stripping away the pride of certain members too. According to Dean, Rafe is the top host for the grandest parties on the island—his containing a multitude of wild nights and adventures, all oozed out of his all-expensive paid amenities.

But you, for the life of it, don't understand how this has anything to do with his goals. Dean confirmed, after your little encounter with Rafe on the golf course, that he did have plans on taking the title of Kook King from Rafe. That Rafe's hatred of him was not unwarranted. However, he didn't tell you why.

All you know is that for the duration of this summer, your brother is going to do everything he can to convince the rest of the Kooks to follow after him.

Dean sighs, approaching you at the far end of the tailgate, crouching down till his face is to your level. "It's simple. Kooks are superficial and flimsy. They are only loyal to the Camerons because they have money. So, we need to shift the tides."

You are not getting in the middle of this.

"We—" you gesture to yourself, then to your brother, "are not doing anything. You are trying to do something with something we don't have a lot of. AKA, money."

While your brother does have a cushy job that pays better than most living in The Cut, and your mother secured herself as a respectable accountant who works with several high-profile Kooks—your family is nowhere at the levels that the Camerons is.

Dean chuckles. He finds it humorous that you're trying to distance yourself from this ongoing rivalry, drawing a line that you would not cross. Though, he knows, you would choose his side if it came down to it. "I know," he agrees with a nod. "But that's not the only way we can even the playing field. We can get power elsewhere."

"You do realize that this is just a meaningless feud between the Kooks and the Pogues, right?" You remind your brother. You know that he's competitive and stubborn; when he sets his mind on something, nothing you can or do can change it. "That it's not going to matter in the long run?"

His jaw locks and it takes several beats before he answers. "It matters to me."

Your older brother pushes himself back up to his height, jumping off the trunk onto the ground, and starts carrying the boxes himself. Without your assistance. You feel like you pushed a button you didn't know existed, and step back timidly.

"Fine, tell me," you announce after a few minutes of unbearable silence, trying to retain Dean's attention. "How are you planning on getting power?"

"No, you don't care."

You grab your brother's arm before he hauls the next case onto the cargo bed. Finally, he turns to you. "But, you care," you rectify, in a small voice, "so that means I care too. What is your genius plan, Lucky?"

Dean lights up at the nickname you used. An inside joke between the two of you. When you were children, you two were obsessed with the film Lilo & Stitch—so much that you had adopted the nicknames as your own. However, for the better part of your childhood, you had a difficult time remembering it was Lilo. You kept calling it Lucky. In turn, you kept calling your brother 'Lucky.'

"Alright." He sets his current case on the tailgate, turning back to give you his full attention. "Y'know how Kook doesn't just party? They do a lot of other shit too. They smoke. They do drugs. They fuck one another on the off-chance that they could gain something from it—a job, an inside scoop, maybe even the life of a housewife."

You raise your brow at his example. "Men can't be the sluts?"

"Can you let me speak?"

You raise both your arms in surrender. He cuts you a playful annoyed look before continuing on his mastermind.

"So, that means, Kooks change loyalty based on whoever has most access to the things they want. The drugs, the alcohol, the parties. Everything. If I can take that away from Rafe, they will shift their loyalty."

You cross your arms, considering his words. "You can't honestly believe that's true. They have more loyalty than that."

"I don't think so," he shakes his head, the firmness in his voice makes you wonder how he's so confident about it. "They're not like Pogues. Loyalty isn't the only thing they have left."

You don't respond. Instead, you remember. You can't shake off the rising guilt in your gut, knowing what happened the other day with Rafe—your brother's enemy—and how your brother still doesn't know. While you don't consider yourself a Pogue anymore, you know you are loyal to one thing.

Dean.

Your family.

This, you are certain.

In that moment, you decided that you need to put some distance between yourself and Rafe. That whatever happened that night was a one-time thing, a flunk in the system, a brief moment of vulnerability.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket again and this time, you pull it out, expecting to see another text from Rafe.

Unknown: come on, don't ignore me

You swallow hard, clenching your phone in your palm. Dean has returned back to lodging his cases onto his trunk, picking up his own routine without you.

"Hey, Dean," you call out, to which your brother hums in response. "Have you talked to... him?"

It takes a moment for your brother to register who you are referring to, and his whole body goes rigid. "No," he says with gritted teeth, not bothering to hide his discontent. "I blocked that bastard months ago."

He glances down at your phone clutched in your hand. "Didn't you?"

You know you should. You know it would be better for you. But, something in you just doesn't allow it to happen. That you wonder, for a moment, if he would ever change and need help. To get back on his feet. To make amends. You couldn't let that happen without you.

"Yeah," you lie, "I was just curious."

—

The party is full of Kooks. You didn't expect this many people to show up, especially knowing that they're supposed to be resenting you and your brother, but somehow you were proven wrong. Perhaps it's because Dean went all-out that drove them, or because Kooks didn't like to miss out on something on their own street, but they're here.

You wonder, for a split moment, if what your brother said has some merit.

The party wasn't just Kooks. He invited the Pogues too. Unlike you, where your friends dropped you upon learning that you were moving to Figure Eight and you didn't care enough to keep in touch—Dean carefully kept in contact with his childhood buddies. Because, at heart, Dean still sees himself as a Pogue.

You didn't care. You took advantage of it. Dressed in your best party outfit—a skirt that barely covered anything, a top with such a large cut that practically revealed your cleavage—and a fuck-it attitude, you descended to the party and have fun.

You drank, danced, and even grind against a couple of guys on the dance floor.

That's when it hits you. Where is Dean? Usually, by the time the second guy got too handsy with you, he would appear out of nowhere to shove the guy off. An overprotective streak that you can't help but roll your eyes to, it's also a measured move that allows you to know when and where your brother is at all times.

Taking the final sip of your drink, the liquor of mixed fruits and vodka slipping down your throat with a burn, you separate from the guy to search for your brother. He wasn't outside, where most of everyone is, lounging around the lit pool; he wasn't on the roof, where Kooks were jumping off the ledge into the water below; he wasn't gone—his truck was still here. When you went inside, you searched the first floor to find him nowhere in sight. That's when you head upstairs. Opening the door to your room, you didn't find Dean.

You find Rafe instead.

"What the hell?" You exclaim, your words slightly slurred as you step into your bedroom and lock the door behind you. Rafe turns around, his previous attention paid to the various frames decorating your walls now pins onto you. "What—what are you doing here?"

"I heard there was a party," he shrugs, his demeanor completely casual while his hands rested inside the pockets of his khaki shorts. "Thought I'd check it out."

"The parties downstairs,"

"Huh," he hums, feigning innocence. "I must've gotten lost."

You aren't satisfied because, despite your intoxicated state, you can clearly see through his lies. Crossing your arms over your chest, you accuse, "thought you gave yourself a house tour the other night?"

"I did," he chuckles, closing the distance. His height towers over your own, and as he meets your gaze, a smirk rises over his face. "I got distracted."

You swallow hard, your heart skipping several beats knowing exactly what he's alluding to. It doesn't help that Rafe carries the same look behind his eyes—the same glint he had when he made you come.

"You know," Rafe begins, trailing down the length of your body, causing heat to bloom under your skin, before meeting your eyes again. "I talked to girls before and none of them has ever made me work as hard as you."

He's referring to the fact that, while you're replying to his texts, after your talk with Dean, they've been mostly monosyllabic answers. One-sided attempts at a conversation. You thought he would take the hint to leave you alone.

Once again, you're wrong.

You cross your arms and challenge him, "Go talk to one of your girls, then."

"Nah."

You don't know if it's the alcohol or his words, but your entire body is buzzing. You should leave, and go back to your search—what were you looking for again?—but something made you stay rooted in your spot. Rafe takes note of your internal battle and takes advantage of it.

Moving even closer, until he's nothing but a breath away, Rafe lowers himself to your level, his mouth right beside your ear. "You know what I can't stop thinking about?"

"How you can't seem to take no for an answer?"

"No," he chuckles, his breath fanning the crook of your exposed neck. "You and your little moans as you called out my name."

Your legs squeeze together, arousal stirring in the pit of your stomach as your mind flashes to the vivid memories of that night. Of Rafe touching you and making you come with the skillfulness of his hands. You can't help but imagine what he could do with his tongue.

Pulling together whatever little restraint you have left, you set a hand on his chest. "Well, cherish it. Because it's not going to happen again."

You're proud of how steady your voice sounds. It's almost believable.

But Rafe doesn't look completely convinced. A cocky smile forms on his face, his eyes diligently scanning your features, picking you apart under his scrutiny.

"You don't believe that."

"I—" You begin, stuttering. Goddammit. "I do. I'm serious."

His hand raises to cup the side of your profile, the pad of his thumb drags across the plump of your bottom lip and they part unconsciously. His smirk broadens.

"Look at you opening up for me. Showing me how much you want me."

You internally groan. He's so infuriating, hot, and obnoxious, that you can't believe you're falling for any of it. You need to do something. Flattening both hands on his firm chest, you give him a light shove, forcing him to release.

Turning, you head for the exit when Rafe captures your wrist, spins you around, and crashes his lips onto yours.

Everything zeros into this moment. All those nightly fantasies of Rafe kissing you finally come to life as he groans against the taste of you. His hand travels to the nape of your neck and holds it tight, using it to steady himself as he presses closer, pulling you in, needing to feel nothing but skin-on-skin.

And you allow it. You don't know if it's because of the vodka mixers you had, or because Rafe is just an incredible kisser, but the way he sucks the plump bottom of your lips draws out a breathy moan, and your skin buzzes with fervent heat. His free hand descends down to grab yours, before placing it against the hard bulge under his pants.

"Do you feel what you do to me, princess?" He murmurs against your vodka-stained lips. "I fucking need you."

Your eyes connect with his, but meet nothing but the pitch-black of his dilated pupils. "You're drunk," you say breathlessly.

His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, leaving tingles in its place, before he confesses, "Not enough."

Then, his mouth meets yours again.

Without breaking for air, Rafe steps forward, causing you to step back. It becomes a two-person dance, and it doesn't end until the back of your heels hits the frame of your bed, tumbling you onto the mattress.

Rafe is immediately on you. Your back flattens against the sheets, your heart thundering, as Rafe parts from the heavy kiss to lay wet ones on the side of your throat, teasingly, nibbling the tender skin until he leaves a mark, before moving down to the valley of your breasts.

Half of you wish you weren't wearing such revealing clothes. The other half wished they were already gone.

Your core aches as Rafe's hands fall between your legs, skimming the short skirt, until he feels the patch of your panties. "You're so gorgeous," he confesses, before chuckling at the slickness collecting on his fingertips, "and wet."

He tells you to lift your hips and you oblige. Removing your skirt, he toss it to the floor, and his eyes zoom into the red pair of panties you decided to wear tonight.

"Did you know red's my favorite color?" Rafe asks. You shake your head softly. "Do you know why?"

"Anger issues?"

He grins, his thumb gently stroking the drenched spot in a way that causes your hips to buck off the bed. But he pins you back down. "It's because it's a good color to fuck to."

"Never knew you were the type of guy to set the mood."

"Didn't need to. You did it all for me."

You open your mouth to retort when his thumb massages your clit in such a sensual manner, a moan rips from you. Rafe watches the way your eyes flutter from the ounce of pleasure, how easily stimulated you are by his touch, and he revels in that feeling.

"You want me," he murmurs, full of confirmation this time, but you don't answer. Rafe watches the way your teeth sink to your bottom lip, embarrassment flushing your face as you refuse to accept it. "Say it."

"You want me," you correct, changing the subject as you arch into his hand.

His fingers stop their magical strokes, and you whine. "No, princess, you want me. I want to hear you say it."

Desperation seeps. Your core aching, pleading for stimulation, and he is right there. You have half a mind to push him off and finish the yourself, voyeurism included. But, you don't. As your eyes connect with him, you breathe out with reluctance, "please make me come."

It isn't exactly what he wanted, but he takes it.

His fingers slip under the band of your panties, pulling them off and discarding them. You thought he would do the same methods as the other night, his fingers finding your sweet spot, but he surprises you when he lowers his mouth and finds your swollen nub.

"Shit," you whisper breathily, his mouth suctioning the clit in a manner that causes your back to arch. Your hands go to find his hair, threading your fingers through his roots as you grind on his face. "That feels so good."

"You taste so fucking good," Rafe growls, the vibration of his words causing your stomach to tighten. When he sees how responsive you are to him, he slips two fingers into your pussy, feeling your walls immediately fluttering around his digits.

He fingers you, as he sucks on your clit. The double stimulation causes your head to spin and your heart to hammer out of your chest, your stomach coils with the familiar pang of pleasure.

"Oh my god, Rafe," you moan, gripping his hair tighter. For a moment, you're afraid of hurting him, but it's quickly dismissed when he flattens his tongue against your slit.

"Say my name louder."

"Rafe."

"Would you do anything I say to come?" Rafe asks, taking the opportunity to get something from you. And you're willing.

"Yes," you whimper, tipping your head back against the bed. "Anything."

"Moan louder for me, baby."

You do.

"Play with your tits."

Your hands push up your top till your breasts are exposed, using a hand to grope the flesh, brushing your fingers through your perked nipples. Groaning from pleasure, it arouses Rafe further, his fingers penetrating deeper and faster into your cunt, while his mouth returns to your clit.

"Oh, god," you moan, chest rising and falling in rapid succession as your pleasure crescendos through your body. Your legs attempt to squeeze close from the sensitivity, to push Rafe out, but with one strong arm, he widens them instead. "Please don't stop."

Rafe doesn't respond but you can feel him grinning into your pussy, flattening his tongue across your slit as your core pulses around his digits. Nothing at this moment could be more perfect, the slow-burning building to your orgasm, the pleasure rippling through your veins.

Nothing can ruin it.

Until you hear your brother calling out your name.

"Shit," you swear, your heart rate spiking through the roof, and a hand slips between your thighs to push Rafe away. But he doesn't move. "Rafe—fuck," a clever roll of his tongue against your heat causes your mind to short-circuit, and you limp back onto the bed as Dean's voice grows louder.

Like he's outside your door.

"Rafe, please," you beg.

"Please what?" Rafe taunts, lifting his head from between your thighs, the lower half of his face dripping with your arousal, while his eyes gleamed that same mischief he had the other night. "Make you come? Or stop?"

You don't know what you want either, and it doesn't help that Rafe continues to stroke your cunt, his thumb rubbing your clit to make up for the absence of his hot mouth. Your legs twitch from the act, again, attempting to close around him, but he pushes them further apart.

Your door rattles. And Dean calls out your name again.

"Are you in there?" He asks, "are you okay?"

No, you want to rasp, but nothing comes out. Rafe grins devilishly, before lowering himself back onto your clit and sucks harder—quickening the arrival to your blinding climax.

"Rafe," you whisper roughly, your mind caught between two forces. The door continues to rattle as Dean tries to force the lock open, a protective trait of him needing to make sure you're okay, while Rafe has you in the most compromising position.

With the worst person.

"Go out with me."

"What?"

You think you heard him wrong, that Rafe definitely isn't asking you out while he's between your legs. But you didn't. Rafe lifts his head and repeats the question once more. "Go out with me."

"I—"

"Come on," Rafe soothes, his fingers fastening their strokes, your walls clenching around him. "Go out with me. Or else, your big brother's gonna come in and see you mid-orgasm."

"W–What do you mean?"

"I know you don't want me to stop," Rafe taunts with a smirk, "And I know your brother probably got some way of getting that door to open. So, you got two choices: either accept my date and come, or your big brother is gonna see me between your legs."

"I—" Your breath shudders as Rafe's signet cool ring presses against your heat. "You're despicable."

"Yet I'm here," Rafe lowers himself back on your clit, sucking languidly as if you don't have a threatening force outside your door, seconds from being let in. Your heart piercing out of your chest. "Come on, princess, go out with me."

Your mind is caught in a tailspin. Half of you want to tell him to fuck off, that you can't believe Rafe is using your moment of weakness to coerce you into a date, but the other part is wrapped in the absolute pleasure of your onslaught orgasm. The white-searing hot power that's coursing down your spine.

"Fuck," you say breathily, eyes fluttering shut from the way Rafe suctions on your clit. "Fuck, fuck, okay, okay. I–I'll go out with you."

You don't see it, but Rafe is grinning between your thighs. He goes faster, harder, pushing you over the edge as you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the loud moans leaving your lips.

And just in that moment, the locks disengages.

With whatever mental capacity you have left, you quickly shove Rafe onto the floor and throw your blanket over your body. Dean barges into the room, blinking out his drunken haze, while his eyes scans the space for any disruptions.

"Did you hear me?" He asks with a subtle slur, scanning your face to see you comfortable in bed. He doesn’t know what got you here. "I've been calling out to you."

Your heart is hammering, and you pray that Dean doesn't approach the bedframe or look on the floor to find any semblance of his enemy hiding out. Rafe, thankfully, doesn't make a sound—though, you’d imagine he's hiding behind a cocky smile at the situation he's in.

"I—" you don't know how to answer him, "I was listening to music. Sorry."

"Oh," Dean says, taking the excuse as acceptable. He glances back at the door. "Why was your door locked?"

"It—it's a party," you explain, surprised at how easy the lie is flying off your tongue. "I didn't want drunk people to stumble up here and have sex on my bed."

"Right, right, smart," Dean nods, and he turns back around. "Alright. I'm going back down. Sleep tight."

You hum back in response as Dean stumbles out of your room, and you finally feel like you can expel a breath. The moment the lock clicks, Rafe lets out a rich laugh, straightening himself into a sitting position as he turns his head and connects his gaze with yours.

"Nice lie."

"Fuck off."

"Can't, you promised me a date," Rafe grins cheekily, pulling himself to his feet while he holds out something in his hand. "I think this belongs to you."

Your panties.

You snatch it from him, heat flushing your face as you want to nothing more than to bury yourself into your sheets. Well, you technically already did. Regardless, Rafe takes one final look around the room, at you, before he says, "I'll text you." And before he leaves, he gives you a sharp look and a reminder, "And actually respond."

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Navigation — Part 02 | Part 03 | Part 04

[sturniozo]

Back To You

“Fuck Matt!” I moan out. Matt’s thrusts get sloppier and messier, and I tangle my hands in his hair, pulling him closer to me. His hips slam against me harshly, rocking the bed, and causing my headboard to slam into the wall with loud thuds, thuds that if anyone else were here they’d know just how good Matt was fucking me.

“So close, Babydoll.” Matt groans in my ear. “So wet for me.” His breath against my ear causes shivers to run down my body, my hips shaking and rocking against Matt’s. “Fuck, you close baby?” Matt asks, his breath on my ear causing the whole thing to happen again. Another groan escapes Matt’s lips.

“I’m close, Matt!” I’m barely able to moan out. Matt groans in my ear as I feel his release in me. My body shivers and my hips buck against his and I scream out his name. “Matt! Oh god!”

He stays still for a solid minute, panting as he hovers over me. He takes a breath as he rolls over beside me, instantly pulling me against him and laying my head on his chest. “You good?” He asks.

I let out a breathy laugh. “I’m good.” I say softly. I position myself more comfortably on his chest, drawing little hearts over his.

“I love when you do that.” Matt says as he runs his fingers through my hair.

“Do what?” I ask, laying my hand down over his heart.

“Don’t stop.” He mumbles, holding my hand his his. I smile softly and begin drawing hearts on his chest once again.

Matt hums softly and he plays with my hair. “What’s up?” I ask.

“Nothing.” He says.

“Something’s up, I can hear you thinking. You do it so little that when it does happen it strains your brain and it’s audible.” I giggle.

“You’re so mean.” He snorts.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” I look up at Matt.

“I’m not thinking about anything.”

“So as usual.”

“Okay we’re done.” Matt laughs as he sits up.

“No! I’m sorry!” I laugh out.

“You’re a jerk.” Matt says as he slips on his shirt.

“Says the guy that tricks me into sleeping with him all the time.” I snort as I sit up and put my own shirt on.

Matt grabs his boxers and steps his legs through the holes. “I didn’t trick you, you willingly got into bed with me.”

I stand up. “The way I remember it, I was crying and you were comforting me.”

“It seems to happen like that a lot lately.” Matt says. He zips up his jeans and sits back down on the bed beside me and I pull my leggings over my hips.

“I know.” I say softly.

“Are you gonna go back to him again?” Matt asks as he puts his hand on my back, beginning to rub small circles.

“No, I’m done with him.” I lie to myself. But Matt and I both know the truth. I’m too head over heels for Alex. There’s no way I could not run when he calls.

“Yeah.” Matt mumbles. He pulls me in and kisses the top of my head. “Well if you ever need more comforting…”

I laugh and hit Matt’s arm. “You’re something else.”

“You’re one to talk.” Matt snorts.

I look up at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” Matt mumbles. He lays back down on the bed. I only sigh and stand up.

“I guess I’ll go home then?” I go to pick up my bag, and Matt sits up quickly.

“Why?”

“You don’t seem very happy with me right now.” I shrug and swing my bag over my shoulder, only for Matt to take it from me immediately. “What are you doing?” I ask.

“You’re just gonna go sit at home and cry over that idiot for hours. We both know it.”

I roll my eyes and reach for my bag. “Okay, now I really want to go home. Give me by bag, Matt.”

“No.” Matt stands his ground. “I’m not letting you go home just to cry for hours about an idiot you’re just gonna go back to in a week.”

“I’m not going back to him this time.” I look down. “It’s done. Over. Forever.”

“You say that every time.” Matt sighs.

“But this time I mean it. Really.” I insist.

"Do you know how many times I've heard that?" Matt laughs. "Just get back in bed here and-"

"No, Matt." I stop him from finishing his sentence. "I'm going home."

I watch as Matt stands still, his hands balled into a fist and his jaw clenched. "Fine." He says after a moment of silence. "Who am I to stop you?" He hands me my bag and sits back down on the bed. "Just don't come crying to me next time you guys break up."

"We aren't even getting back together!" I yell at him.

"You always do. I bet you that by the end of the night you'll be back with him. And do you know where that leaves me?"

"No, Matt, where?" I sigh.

"Alone, watching the girl I love get hurt by the same jackass over and over again."

I gasp softly as Matt's eyes widen from the realization of what he just said. "The..."

"Don't." Matt snaps. "Just go."

I step closer to him. "Matt-"

"I said go." He says again.

I bite my lip, standing still for a moment, before sighing and swinging my bag over my shoulder. I open the door to his bedroom and leave.

~

It's been three days since I last spoke to Matt. Every minute was even more painful than the last. I just couldn't take it anymore. So here I sit, on my bed, debating my next move.

'Can I see you?' The texts read. Alex. On the one hand, Matt confessed to me, telling me he loves me. I know my feelings for Matt, I know I love him back, I always have. On the other hand, there's something about Alex I just can't resist. I don't know what it is.

I sigh as I stare at the text, shooting back my reply.

'What time?'

The moment I click send, a feeling of dread and guilt floods through my veins. I lean back on my bed, not expecting my phone to ding immediately. I look to see Alex's reply.

'Now?'

I sit up, going to put my shoes on, but stop myself. What am I doing? How can I go back to him? Especially now that I know Matt feels the same way about me as I feel about him. I shake my head. Matt may have felt that way, but after the other day, there's no way he still has those feelings for me.

I tie my shoes and run out the door, getting in my car. I once again think about Matt. How disappointed is he going to be in me when I do this?

I shake my head. It doesn't matter. Matt doesn't want anything to do with me anymore. I start the car, pulling out of my driveway and heading down the street. I get to the ever-familiar stop light. I could go left to Alex's house. Or I could go straight. Just a few more blocks down, and take a right, and be at Matt's house.

The red-light stares into my soul. My hand rests on my turn signal as I bite my lip, and as the light turns green, I go forward. My heart races. I'm going to Matt. For the first time ever, when Alex asked me to go to him, I didn't. I smile to myself. Matt would be so proud.

Or at least that's what I thought. Before I pulled into his driveway to see an unfamiliar car there. I shrug it off for a moment. It must be a girl Chris is seeing or something, maybe just a friend I haven't met yet. I get out of my car, so fast I barely had time to unbuckle my seat belt.

I run to the door, knocking on it frantically. Chris answers. "Is Matt here?" I ask.

"Yeah, but-"

I cut Chris off. "I need to talk to him." I walk in and Chris closes the door behind me.

"Y/N, you need to slow down." Chris walks behind me as I go to Matt's room.

"He's in his room?" I ask as I point at the door.

"Y/N, stop."

"What's wrong?" I ask. I turn to the door as it opens, revealing a half-dressed Matt.

And a naked girl, asleep in his bed. My breathing stops as I feel paralyzed.

"Y/N?" Matt asks. "What are you doing here?"

"Nothing." Tears form in my eyes. "I was just leaving." I turn and walk quickly to the front door.

I get to my car before Matt stops me. "What happened, what are you doing here?"

"Nothing, let me go."

"No."

"The other day you couldn't get me to leave, what's different today?" I ask.

"You're crying." Matt says, which cases me to laugh.

"I was crying then too."

"But I don't know why this time."

"Oh, really?" I laugh. "You don't?"

"Is this about that girl?" He asks. "How did you even know I was with her?"

"I didn't." I sigh. "Alex texted me. He asked me to come over today."

Matt rolls his eyes. "And he did his normal jackassery shit and you-"

"No." I cut him off. "I didn't go see him."

"What?"

"I came to see you." I speak.

Matt stands there, stunned. "You did?"

"I didn't go see him. I went to you, and you had a girl in your bed." I look down, holding back the tears. "I'm going to go now."

I get into my car, closing the door and starting the engine. Everything feels slow. Like every second is a minute long, as if it's all in slow motion. Part of me wants Matt to stop me. To open my car door and tell me not to go. But he doesn't.

And he never will.

TAGS: @bernardenjoyer @sturniolosreads @mbbsgf @xxsadlovexx @whicked-hazlatwhore @sturnsgirl @keira324 @stuniolobbg @timmyscomputer @meg-sturniolo @sturnioloenthusiast @nickdevora @hearts4chris @carolinalikesthings @mattscokewhore @tillies33ssss @junnniiieee07

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 16

Curly (Mouthwashing) + food play

Guess whos got Mouthwashing brainrot. This guy. I love me a psychological horror game that im too scared to play myself, so I watch manlybadasshero play it. I love curly, and I love angst and horror, so here we go.

tw for vague mentions of what happens in the game, and Curly losing his mind.

2024 kinktober masterlist

Sunlight passed in through the slim windows in your shared apartment, the radio playing some tune you didn’t know the name off. Most music nowadays was made by AI, generating what seemed to be popular at that very moment, so it was never worth learning the names, not when most were just a line of numbers and letters.

Your socked feet carry you silently across the carpet, a serving tray in your hands as you carefully push the door open. The apartment was ancient by todays standards, but it had windows that let you see the actual sun, and not just the artificial one they used so people wouldn’t go crazy. It did result in having doors you actually had to open, instead of sliding doors.

Seeing your husband laid out on the bed made it all worth it though, the sliver of sunlight brushing against his skin and making his blonde hair look like gold. Curly was going on another delivery in a weeks time and would be gone for about eight months to a year. It might have sounded extreme, but in this day and age it was normal, especially for you two, who were working class.

 Luckily you had a job that paid okay, but not enough to support you both, and your lover had such a draw to the stars. This also meant you two had been going at it like rabbits, to be able to sate yourselves until you met again.

The tray was placed on the bedside table, a sleepy smile pulling at Curly’s lips as you crawl up the bed, pressing soft kissing all the way up his spine. “Morning captain” you murmur against his neck, where you bury your face and inhale deeply, simply taking in the smell that was him.

His hand lazily reaches back and runs through your hair, a sleepy hum leaving his lips as Curly seems to melt further into the sheets, a long relaxed exhale leaving him. “mornin…” he mumbles, not even opening his eyes as he felt your chest press against his back.

Mornings like this with you were Curly’s favourite, where he just got to indulge himself in all that he loved. A small yelp did jump out of him as he felt something run down his back, your chuckle making him grumble and finally glance back at you, his blue eyes parted just enough to see you.

Curly huffed a little as he watched and felt you lick syrup up from the crevice of his spine, your tongue flicking out and lapping against every knob of his spine that you could feel. He sighed and arched his back a little as you got further down, flattening your tongue against the dimple of his back and giving a wet suck, slurping up the syrup that had collected there.

“Sweet, like you” you mumble against his skin, shooting him a cheesy wink as he grunts at your stupid joke. He was more than willing to lift his hips though, as you started working his boxers down, Curly twitching again as you tilted more of the syrup against his skin.

Had he not been so sleepy and hot inside already, he might have complained as he felt the thick syrup run down between his cheeks, against his fluttering hole, which still felt sensitive from the multiple rounds you’d had the day before.

Your tongue licking against it was like a Band-Aid, but also kindling upon the fire in his gut. Curly shuddered and hummed softly into the pillow, hips lazily rocking back against your tongue as you licking and tasted all he had to offer.

Curly could feel you pouring more of the syrup on him, and part of his brain wondered if you had bought it, just to use it for this. Sugary items weren’t the cheapest, so it did fluster him a little more, knowing you most likely had saved up just to lick it off him. It made the familiar pulsing hardness between his legs dribble against the sheets, his hips rocking more intently against the bed.

“My pretty captain” you coo against his hole, only to follow it up with another wet suckle and slurp. One of your hands rubbed at his thigh, as the other pulled one of his cheeks, opening him up more for your hungry tongue and mouth.

You both knew you could have just pressed inside him, seeing as he was most definitely still loose from the day before. But the act of getting to lick him out and taste him like this was part of the fun, to feel Curly rut against the bed, but also back against your face, the taste of your spend from the day before, of Curly, and of the sweet syrup, flooded your senses.

It wasn’t the real syrup, the stuff they got from trees. Someone on your salary could never dream of even tasting the stuff, but it was a replacement version. It tasted a bit fake, but it was better than the cheap stuff. Add that to the taste of your lovers hole and his desperate panting, then it became a five star meal.

Curly let out a shaky keened noise as you finally pulled back, the blonde glancing over his shoulder again to watch as you slowly crawled back up again, pressing your chest against his back once more. “I love you” you mumble against his neck, grabbing yourself at the base to push inside him, Curly opening up with ease from all your prep.

“I love… you too” he gasped out, having to catch his breath as he felt your tip press expertly against his prostate. You had learned how to play him like a fiddle a while ago, back when you two were younger, and he was still studying to become a captain of a ship, and you had just started your career. You had both been so clumsy at the time, laughing and embarrassed, trying to figure it all out.

He let out a breathless giggle as you poured more lines of syrup against his back, licking it up from between his shoulders and up to his neck. “you’ll get it in my hair” he snickered, burying his face into the pillow once more as your hips worked together, his more desperate than yours.

“We can just take a bath” you reply, your voice rougher than before as you hold yourself up with your hands, moving your hips in rougher strokes, knowing that Curly liked it that way, to have his prostate struck over and over until he was wailing.

Neither of you really wanted to go far enough for Curly to start clawing at the bed, lost in tears of pleasure and fucked so good he couldn’t form a thought. At least, not now, not when he had just woken up, instead you stuck to suckling the sweet substance off his skin, the flavour mixing with the salty tang of his sweat.

Curly was the first to spill, his noises growing higher in pitch as his hips rocked in short quick strokes, downright humping the bed but also trying to jump back against you. Your captain got too desperate sometimes, no matter how many times you guys did this. He was normally too nice and too selfless, and times like this were the only time he allowed himself to be selfish.

His noises melted in a drawn out keen, which turned into a deeper guttural groan, his hips grinding hard against the sheets as he spurted all over it, your hips grinding against his from the back to push him further against it. “Good, so good. So good for me Curly” you pant, rutting against him a few more times before spilling inside him, adding to the mess that had mostly been licked up by yourself.

You both laid there, pressed against each other and panting, trying to catch your breaths and basking in the glow of being together. When he caught his breath, Curly lifted himself from the pillow, which now had some spit and tear stains as a result of his pleasure. His lips slotted against yourself, Curly smirking lazily at the sweet taste on your tongue. It tasted so good, even if he didn’t normally like the stuff, but on your tongue anything tasted divine.

…

A rattly exhale left his teeth, as there weren’t really any lips left to breathe through. Curly’s one eye was blurry as he stared up at the same ceiling he had been staring at for who knows how long. His mind had been slipping more and more lately. Every waking moment was pain, and whenever he slept, he dreamed of you.

Every now and then he swore he could taste syrup, even amongst the horrible taste of bile, blood, and the pain medication Jimmy force-fed him. Maybe the pain and isolation were finally catching up, his pained limbs thrashing weakly against the bed. Not because of pain, even if it was ever present. But because he longed for you. he longed for your eyes, your lips, your hands, your love. Anything to carry him through this… this guilt and pain.

Would you still want him, like this? You had always loved his hair, his eyes, you had always loved his handsome features. And what was he now, other than the sad pathetic remains of a man who deserved to die. But he couldn’t die, not yet, not when he had promised to return to you.

He could almost hear you. your loving voice which filled him with longing. Calling out for him, loving him, comforting him through the worst of his pains. Curly… my captain… Curly, Curly, Curly, C- “Curly?” a soft voice broke through the visions and illusions, at least most of them.

He couldn’t turn his head well, but Anyas face was familiar as it leant over him. She looked exhausted and like she had aged ten years from the stress of it all. She seemed relieved but also saddened to see him still alive, like part of her had hoped he would die peacefully in his sleep. “I don’t… I don’t think I can do this anymore, Curly. Its not your fault, but I can’t-“ she stuttered, voice shuddering and eyes glossy.

Hearing the rattle of the pill bottle in her hand made it all make sense. Poor Anya, another victim of Curly and his inability to do anything right. He wasn’t made at her, he hoped the few gurgles he could let out before the pain got too extreme expressed that. Her smile was so tired, one of her hands resting on his bandage covered bicep, before she slowly sank to the floor.

Curly could hear her breathing slowing down, even above his own raspy pained wheezing. If he blurred his vision enough, and let himself slide deeper into his mind, away from most of the pain, then he could hear your breathing too. He could feel it puffing against the back of his neck, your mouth pressing against his shoulder, up his neck to his chin, and against his lips.

The door opened with a whoosh, Curly only truly registering that time had passed from the look on Jimmys face, and how the room had started to smell more of death than before. Even as Jimmy lifted him, Curly still tasted sugar. He tasted you. he could almost see you leaning over the table, your loving smile on your face, even as more pain burned through his leg. Even as it all blurred more and more. Even as everything grew cold, and he heard Jimmy finally take responsibility, as you looked back at him through the glass.

He tasted syrup.

[earlysunshines]

fright night

kim minji x fem!reader

synopsis: in which your university’s halloween festival leads to you and minji beating around the bush — finally.

warnings: making out. like the best makeout scene i've written in a bit i think. ohmygdoajsdf ; minji is a loooooser but we all know this ; pining ; dumb gay women ; FLIRTING. they want each other SO BAD i was giggling writing this im ngl ; SO cute i loved writing this ohmygod ; anything else not mentioned ; not proofread

a/n: lately i’ve been going insane bc of minji like she’s just so gf… so… she’s so… i need her

kim minji is an idiot, she’s literally the dumbest person you know.

well, academically she’s actually a genius, but she’s clumsy and clueless nine times out of ten. unfortunately yet fortunately(?) for her, this is only more of the reason for you to be completely in love with her.

which is why your roommate is dealing with another one of your little attempts to deny your feelings again.

“i think i should just die.” you groan into yunjin’s bed. she watches you, your body lifeless after you roll over to face the ceiling. “everything was just normal.”

“‘just’ as in… a month ago…?” your roommate snickers, folding a t-shirt and placing it next to your torso. “i think you’re the only person i know who doesn’t enjoy being in love.”

yes: you’re in love with kim minji.

no: you do not enjoy being in love with her at all.

it’s not that she’s an asshole, it’s just the fact that everyone is also in love with her. she quite literally has a line of girls (and men, but none of them stand a chance) waiting for her. she’s kim minji, one of your mutual friends who happens to be the captain of the university’s soccer team—which is why the clumsy aspect of her is often overlooked. so to most, she’s just hot, but she’s more to you, much more.

and you? you’re just trying to get by. you’re not in the spotlight, you haven’t gotten hit on in months — you and minji are two worlds apart.

“this is a waste of time. she only sees me as a friend, she’s cute and athletic. compared to her the most astonishing thing i can do is make a t-shirt and wide-legged jeans to sell on depop.”

“you should make a t-shirt that says ‘kim minji i want you so bad please marry me—“

yunjin is cut off when her just-folded shirt is thrown right at her face. she groans and throws it right back at you.

“i hope you get the same fate as a side character in a horror film.” you groan, sitting up and glaring at her.

“aw, thanks.” she says dryly, rolling her eyes. “hey, speaking of horror… the halloween festival is soon. are you going?”

“i fear.” you sigh, shoulders sinking a bit.

your partner in crime outside of your dorm, danielle, had convinced you with a look filled with sparkly eyes and a sweet smile to help out with face painting. there would be a variety of people passing by and you were notoriously known for being able to draw really well despite being a fashion major. “art is art,” danielle had shrugged, and so she bribed you with some coffee to really commit to it.

“danielle got me to do the face painting stall.”

yunjin’s eyes widen as she sets down a sweater. “did she?”

“yeah. i’m the only one within the circle – other than hanni – who can draw more than a stick figure.”

“you’ve got that right.” yunjin snickers. “you think your wife will be there?”

“minji?” you tilt your head, to which yunjin responds with a raised brow. she got you there. “oh, um. maybe? why?”

“don’t act all unbothered now.” your roommate scoots you over so she can pick up a pile and stack them somewhere else. “if she’s also doing something for the event, i see it as an opportunity.”

“why would i willingly do that to myself? im going to look desperate.”

“minji is an idiot, we both know that. why would it matter? i think she’d be flattered to have you there. hasn’t she literally taken you home like… three times? girl, stop overthinking.” yunjin scoffs. “plus, you never look desperate. you’re a little too good at acting like you don’t care. don’t you think you’re driving her away? it’s like, you’re so normal and even distant in real life, i don’t want to say nonchalant because it’ll boost your ego, but unfortunately, that’s what you are.”

“you—“ yunjin raises both brows as you start to speak.

“she probably wants you too. i’ve noticed you guys talking more — don’t think i don’t notice you guys next to each other in between classes, even if it’s with your circle. kazuha asked if you were dating actually.”

“really?”

yunjin giggles, turning away from her closer and back at you. she stands right in front of you, towering over and looking into your eyes scarily.

“you want that girl so bad.”

“i can’t.”

“no, no. listen to me, you’re going to take this halloween thing as an advantage to make a move and also look hot. i don’t know how many more complaints about you being a bomosexual i can take.”

“i hate you.”

“okay then pay full rent.”

“i love you?”

yunjin laughs, picking up another pile of clothes and putting it away.

—

hanni is the one to text you out of nowhere the day after, something about “minji wanted you to eat with us, but heeseung is at the cafe.” 

you squint at the message. you had just reached your class, and now you’re being invited over to grab a bite with the girl you want so bad while the guy who wants you so bad is in the same area. there is no way you should be saying yes, you can’t. one: you need to get over minji. she’s out of reach, a mere dream. two: heeseung will be checking you out the whole time and might throw in a compliment or two. 

“i’ll be there in five.” you respond, sighing and pinching the bridge of your nose.

…

the café seems a little busy, but that’s not surprising considering it’s around lunchtime and the cafe is not too far from the university. the second you step in, your eyes find minji across the room. she’s mid-laugh with hanni, but the moment she spots you, her smile stretches wider, something bright and giddy in her gaze. it’s that soft, familiar look she gets sometimes—too open, too much—but you’re just as bad, trying not to look like you’re seconds away from smiling like an idiot as you walk up.

“hey, you,” she greets, her voice warm as she sidles closer, her shoulder bumping yours as you both look over the menu.

“hey loser,” you reply, nudging her back a little harder, a playful rhythm forming between you. she pushes back with a smile, and you retaliate, each shove barely more than an excuse to keep lingering in that small space between you two. she laughs, cheeks a little flushed, and you can’t help but feel like coming over was the better decision.

you order first, dismissing minji’s offer to pay for your lunch. she frowns but nonetheless lets you order first. you order a sundried tomato and mozzarella panini, stepping to the side after and glancing at minji, who’s still staring at the menu.

hanni and danielle have already ordered, so you wait near the counter for minji so the two of you can meet up with the rest together. 

much to your dismay, heeseung’s voice breaks through your little bubble. he steps closer, leaning against the counter a little too casually. “so, do you always come here, or did you just need an excuse?” his smile is easy, maybe a little too practiced, and his gaze lingers as he looks you up and down, more intense than friendly. 

you try not to visibly cringe, offering him a polite smile. “not really—just here with friends today,” you say, keeping your tone light but cool. but he doesn’t quite take the hint, his eyes not quite leaving yours. he definitely thinks there’s something in the air, something other than his cologne that is way too strong for your liking.

“you look cute.”

“oh um, thanks?” you purse you lips into a forced smile, watching him smirk confidently. 

“what are your plans after this? got class?”

before you can think of another way to steer the conversation away, you feel an arm slip around your waist, pulling you close, and you look over to find minji at your side. her smile is wide and a little mischievous, and there’s a hint of something defiant in her gaze as she looks right past heeseung, keeping her hand snug on your hip.

“oh, y/n!” she says brightly, voice layered with just enough enthusiasm to sound like a joke but there’s an edge that makes it feel like more. “i remembered something so funny, it’s about yunjin. you know, during practice she got hit in the head.”

she doesn’t even look at heeseung as she tugs you back toward your group, keeping her arm around you a beat longer than necessary. heeseung’s face twists slightly, frustration crossing his features, but minji doesn’t give him a second glance. she launches into a conversation about her classes, her hand slipping away from your waist as she nudges you with her shoulder once more, an unmistakable grin still tugging at her lips.

you two get the chance to converse with danielle and hanni, who are more than happy to have you there. you can feel heeseung and his group eyeing you from a mile away, but that doesn’t matter because minji is in front of you and keeping eye contact the whole time you complain about him.

both your order and minji’s are called out at the same time and for a second, it’s just the two of you again as you both walk up to the counter. her voice and her closeness are enough to erase the last few awkward moments.

 “you looked like you were having fun back there,” she murmurs, half-laughing, and you can tell by the gleam in her eyes that she noticed everything. 

you laugh, trying to shrug it off. “couldn’t have done it without you,” you say, brushing her shoulder with yours. she looks down, almost bashfully, a hint of pink coloring her cheeks as she smiles—a smile that lingers long after heeseung fades into the background once again and you two rejoin the others.

…

before you make an excuse to leave, although it’s not really an excuse more than a complaint about your professor assigning a grueling reading, you hug everyone. when it’s you and minji, you two hold onto each other for a split second longer than social norms until she pulls away. minji smells like flowers and vanilla – you could drown in her scent.

“are you going to the halloween festival this weekend?”

“oh, yeah. danielle is forcing me to volunteer.”

“that’s funny,” minji chuckles, “because hanni is forcing me too.”

“is that so?”

“uh huh, pumpkin carving moderator or something.” she says, biting the inside of your lip. “we should um, do you wanna walk around after? maybe drop your shift early and i’ll do the same.”

you grin, pushing minji’s shoulder with two fingers playfully.

“couldn’t find any other girl lined up for you to hangout with?”

“what other girls?” minji asks, genuinely confused. 

you’re being an idiot. yunjin would so punch you in the face right now, so you come to your senses.

“i– nevermind. i’ll see you around.”

minji waves. “bye.”

…

after you leave, minji settles into her seat beside hanni and danielle, trying to keep her expression neutral. she fails, the smile on her face noticeably smaller and her eyes a little more dim. her friends have known her too long; hanni catches on first, a knowing smirk spreading across her face.

“you look like a disappointed puppy,” hanni says, nudging minji with a grin.

“what? no,” minji replies, clearly flustered. “what are you saying bro.”

“you were practically glowing when y/n walked in,” hanni teases, leaning in. “and then suddenly turned into a sad little puddle when she left. you want her soooo bad.”

minji’s cheeks turn a soft shade of pink, and she tries to laugh it off, glancing at danielle as if for backup. but danielle’s watching her too, a gentle, encouraging look on her face.

“it’s okay, minji,” danielle says softly. “it’s… pretty obvious, you know? you like y/n a lot.”

minji rolls her eyes, looking away. “maybe i do. but it doesn’t matter. y/n’s just… she’s too… normal, you know? she’s always so unbothered, so unfazed by anything. she probably doesn’t even want me. i’m always chasing her.”

danielle shakes her head, a knowing smile touching her lips. “i wouldn’t be so sure, minji. just because y/n’s good at hiding her feelings doesn’t mean she doesn’t have them.” she places a reassuring hand on minji’s arm. “trust me, i think there’s more there than you realize.”

minji lets out a small sigh, her gaze dropping to her hands. “it’s just… sometimes it feels like i’m the only one who’s feeling this way, you know? like i’m the only one getting flustered or waiting for her to look at me like… like i don’t know, she see’s me as a good friend.”

hanni wraps an arm around her, squeezing her shoulder. “please. y/n’s about as subtle as you when you’re around. i don’t know how you don’t see it.”

danielle laughs softly, nodding. “give it time, minji. y/n might just need a little nudge, and besides…” she pauses, glancing around conspiratorially before leaning in. “if y/n didn’t feel something, you wouldn’t have caught her staring at you like that when she thought no one was watching. plus, the whole nudging your shoulders the whole time. you two are like fucking thirteen year olds in love, it’s kind of gross.”

minji looks up, hope flickering in her eyes as a faint, shy smile tugs at her lips. maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t imagining it.

—

“im literally going to kill myself.” is the first thing yunjin hears when you get home, followed by you dropping your bag and crashing against her on your couch.

“girl what happened?”

“kim fucking minji. she’s insane, she wants me to die, i can’t do this, i resign from being a lesbian can i please resign.”

“well!” yunjin laughs, pulling you in. you lean on her shoulder and cover your face with your hands. “do you want to tell me what happened?”

through your hands, your voice is muffled as you explain, “basically hanni invited me to grab lunch with her and dani and minji. she looked so cute and like, we kept bumping shoulders and she kept smiling when she did it and then i ordered and—”

“you’re rambling–”

“and then i waited for my order while she ordered and heeseung started flirting with me,”

“ew, heeseung?”

“the bane of my existence— yes. i told him i was a lesbian at least three times! oh my god, anyway that doesn’t even matter, i don’t even care because—yunjin. huh yunjin.”

yunjin blinks at you as you stand up, pacing back and forth on the carpet now. she can’t help but laugh at you when you stop in front of her and groan, “jennifer huh.”

“wow, this must be serious.”

“minji fucking grabbed me by the waist like some wattpad story and then kinda shooed heeseung away and yunjin her hands are so nice and they were on my waist and i want her so bad. yeah. i’m gonna just die.”

yunjin pulls you by the wrist so you’re back next to her. she looks at you with a raised brow, waiting for you to recover from your high (if that counts as a high, but maybe you’re just insane). 

“she wants you.”

“she’s playing with me.”

“you’re insane. you know hanni asked if me if you like minji earlier, right? talking about how minji looked so devastated after you left.”

“what?”

“oh my god. you know what, i’m done with you. you’re such an idiot that it’s pissing me off.”

you whine, pulling yunjin by her forearm and pulling her back, which earns a scoff. yunjin looks at your little pout and puppy eyes, but doesn’t give in. instead, she pushes you off, leaving you to deal with the events of the day on your own.

before she disappears into her room, she sighs, “you’re gay and useless.”

you sink into the couch a little more. “thanks.” 

—

the weekend comes by all too fast. even with your time consuming assignments, it feels like you’ve blinked and now you have to deal with the whole festival.

you’re in a snug white cropped baby tee that shows a decent amount of your abdomen, your hair is styled just a bit, and the makeup on your face is a little more glittery and highlighted than usual. on your back there’s angel wings that complete the look. 

(“she’s going to want you so bad, trust me.” yunjin assures as she does your eye makeup.

it’s nothing much, just some darker warm tones with a faint hint of purple and highlighter to make you really look like an angel.

“and…” yunjin adds a bit of highlighter to your cheekbones. she pulls away and gazes at her work, bringing her pointer to her lips and biting on it jokingly. “heyyy gorgeous.”

“shut up.”

“minji’s going to want you so bad.”

“shut. up.”)

yunjin drives the two of you to the festival, she also looks really good. while you’re an angel, she’s a devil, showing off her toned body from soccer so she can pick up some girls that night.

(“you’re such a hoe.” you groan, doing her makeup to make her eyes smoky and lips plump. 

she rolls her eyes while putting on her little horns in her hair, checking herself out in the mirror. 

“how do i look?”

“like a hoe.” you assure firmly, earning a shove. then, you slide a finger down her collarbone teasingly, winking at her. “a really hot one.”

your roommate chuckles. “save that for minji, y/n.”

“i hate you.”)

the halloween festival is lively, lights flickering under dark skies, and you slip through the crowd in your angel costume with yunjin. you’re not even sure if anyone’s noticed your costume details, but the reactions make it clear you look… well, good. or maybe that’s just yunjin who’s doing the attracting, but a man winks directly at you and you have to force back a look of disgust.

as you make your way to the face-painting stall, you catch sight of minji leaning against a booth, dressed as patrick bateman. she’s really hot, that’s for sure, and it’s nothing new. the loose, slightly unbuttoned dress shirt shows her collarbone, and you can’t help but think about how your lips would feel on them. the loosened tie around her neck makes her look really good; you feel like she’s pulling you in without trying. despite the purposeful tousled look, she looks effortlessly put-together, but the smudge of fake blood on her cheek adds a wild edge (and makes her look even hotter). 

her eyes land on you, and her expression shifts just slightly before she pushes off the booth, walking over with a slight smirk.

“wow,” she says, looking you up and down in a way that feels way too intense. “you’re really… pulling off that angel look. you look really good, y/n.”

you giggle, trying to play it cool. “you look pretty good yourself,” you reply, letting your gaze drift over her from the blood on her cheek to the undone buttons of her shirt. “i didn’t know patrick bateman could look this… hot.”

a faint flush creeps onto her cheeks, and she lets out a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. “yeah, well, didn’t know ‘angelic’ could look so irresistible,” she teases, but her voice softens as her eyes linger on you.

for a beat, the two of you just stand there, the energy between you charged. you’re painfully aware of the way she’s looking at you—like she’s holding back from saying or doing something, thouh—and you can’t stop yourself from mirroring that, a hint of want in your gaze. she clears her throat, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“well, i better get to moderating— i don’t want people accidentally slicing themselves instead of a pumpkin.” she murmurs, finally breaking eye contact but not before giving you one last once-over, her eyes lingering a moment longer than necessary. she brings her hand to your hair, using a finger to push away some of the strands framing your face. you gulp a bit, then again after she brushes her knuckles against your cheek. “i like this. the makeup.”

i like you. you fight back the confession.

“thanks.” you swallow, nodding. “well, i should,” you start, playing with her tie out of a burst of confidence. you tug on it just a little, catching her by surprise. her breath hitches just barely. “--get going. i’ll see you.” you say, dropping the piece of fabric in your hand. 

as you head toward your booth, the thrill from your brief encounter with minji lingers, leaving you more than a little distracted and hoping she feels it too.

…

you’ve painted more faces than you can count on one hand in only an hour, much to your surprise. if you were to do this full time you’d for sure develop arthritis the second week on the job. 

after your tenth person — some kid who just wanted two flowers on her cheeks — danielle taps your shoulder. you turn around, humming in response.

“you look beat,” she says.

your shoulders are drooping, your posture is much worse than when you started, and you’re moving your wrist in a every angle to stretch it out and relieve the soreness. 

“you think?”

“hanni says she’ll be over in a bit.” danielle assures, patting you on the back and massaging your back lightly. “the stall will close soon so we can all hangout after.”

“thank god. are the other activities closed?”

“not until before midnight – i think.” you sigh in relief, but danielle adds, “could you grab some stuff from the supply closet though? maybe some more white, blue, and red paint? maybe grab yellow and green too.”

she gives you those eyes again, earning a chuckle. “yeah, yeah. okay.”

“great! just go down and turn right, there’s a brown shed — it’s not creepy, i swear. it’s kind of modern actually.”

“something tells me you’re lying.”

“me? lying?” 

you roll your eyes and stand up, then you trudge on over down the gravel. you roll your shoulders back and massage your neck a bit, then fix your costume a bit. it’s funny; you’re at a whole festival and this is the only time you’re exposed to the groups of people, bright lights, and excitement all around — at least for longer than a minute.

turning the corner you reach a shed, one that matches danielle’s description. 

danielle isn’t a liar, she never lies — well, she never lies about anything serious. it’s quite modern inside, seemingly new due to the fresh paint smell. it’s lined with wooden shelves, each holding different items. the corners are filled with various decorations, ranging from not only halloween decor but also christmas and even valentines day themed trinkets. you laugh at the little cupid poster in the back, but recollect yourself and focus on the “task” at hand.

you have to rummage through the costumes in the corner to find a small box with face paint in it. the light in the shed isn’t on (there isn’t a switch, only some rustic-type light hanging from above in the middle of the building), so you use your flashlight to help you see clearer. 

it takes a bit more time to find the yellow bottle of paint, which is in your hand until you drop it from the sound of the door opening so suddenly.

you jump, gasping ever so lightly before turning around to see a very striking patrick bateman.

minji stands in the doorway, still looking as good as before, looking at you with a perplexed expression.

“what are you doing here?” she asks, looking around the area.

“minji,” you close your eyes, “you scared the shit out of me!”

“i’m sorry…” she says, jutting out her bottom lip and suddenly every ounce of fear is drained from your body. “i didn’t know you were in here.”

“danielle sent me to get more paint.”

“that's funny,” minji steps towards you, looking at the two paint bottles on the floor. “hanni sent me to grab trash bags.”

you don’t respond for a second because minji steps under the antique light above her. it illuminates her face in the best way possible, highlighting the smeared on fake blood and her features. you feel your throat tightening as you stare.

minji’s gaze softens, she steps closer.

“do you know where i could find trash—”

“yes, um, yeah, probably in the corner.” you choke out.

she chuckles, you swallow lightly. 

you take the stretch of silence to pick up the two bottles that had dropped out your hand and turn the flash on your phone off. you fix your tank top because minji is still within radius, but she’s busy looking for the trash bags, still.

“i’ll see you later?” you say softly. minji’s head whips around, and there’s a slight frown on her face. before she can respond, you hear a click coming from the door, then stare at the handle with furrowed brows. you reach over to twist the knob, but it barely budges. “what the hell?”

“what?”

“i think it’s locked. did you lock it?”

she shakes her head, her brow furrowing as she steps over, nudging you aside to try the handle herself. she pulls, twisting the knob a little harder than you did, but the door still doesn’t move an inch. 

“it’s locked.” she mutters, glancing at you with a hint of worry. “i think we’re stuck.”

you both stare at each other for a beat, the realization sinking in, and suddenly the small shed feels much smaller. you look away first, sighing before turning on your phone.

“i’ll call danielle.” you say, voice steady, though there’s a slight tremor as you dial.

“i’ll try hanni.”

you both dial. danielle doesn’t answer and you huff. you wait for minji, her phone against her ear, and the defeated groan is enough to tell you whether hanni answered or not.

“i guess they’re busy.” minji says, slipping her phone back into her pocket. 

for a moment, silence stretches between you both again, an awkward tension settling in. minji shifts, making a weird noise as she brushes dust off her shirt. you can’t help but find it cute. then she adjusts her loose collar, making you clear your throat and glancing around for any other possible way out; there’s none.

the only thing you catch is a window, a window that’s far too small and high for anything to happen.

“we’re stuck.” you mutter, looking back at minji.

“do you think dani and hanni will realize we’re missing?”

“they might be busy…” you pinch the bridge of your nose, resting your head against the door. “i have no idea how we’ll get out.”

you’re stuck with minji. kim minji. the hottest and cutest girl you’ve ever laid eyes on. the girl you think of way too much for it to be platonic. the girl who’s in a costume that genuinely has you considering ruining a friendship. the girl who’s leaning back against the shelf behind her right now, crossing her arms, and who’s eyes are flickering over you as she smiles.

“your costume is really something.” her voice is casual, like you’re not stuck in a shed. there’s also a warmth in her tone that isn’t hidden in the slightest. “i like it a lot. you look heavenly.”

if minji’s trying to ease the tension, she’s doing it very well. her stupid dad joke earns a laugh from you, and now you’re leaning against the door with one side of your body as you keep eye contact.

“thank you minji, your looks could really kill.”

she laughs, gums showing and eyes crinkling. you want her so bad. 

“that one was worse than mine.”

“no it wasn’t!”

she rolls her eyes. “it was.” she steps closer leaning her head against the same door and staring hard at every single feature of your face. she glances at your lips briefly, then back up. “bet you’ve turned more than a few heads tonight.”

“maybe,” you feel your voice growing quieter. “but i was stuck at the booth.”

“if i were at the booth i think i’d purposely stay just to see you. you look really pretty tonight y/n, i mean it.”

you blush. “maybe.” there’s a grin that you can’t keep off your face. “i’d say the same for you.”

she chuckles again, looking down at her slightly blood-stained dress shirt. “yeah, i think i took the pumpkin carving part a bit too seriously. got more guts on me than on the pumpkins.” she holds up her hands, still faintly stained with an orange hue, and shakes her head. “i’ll probably smell like pumpkins for a week.”

minji watches you turn to the side, covering your mouth to stifle a giggle. 

turning back, you’re mid-laugh when your eyes catch on a smudge of blood across minji’s cheek, just barely out of place. your hand moves without thinking, reaching up to brush it away with your thumb. the laughter fades, the shed shrinking around you, and everything slows, the only movement her skin warming under your touch.

minji’s gaze locks onto yours, intense and unblinking, and there’s something behind it that makes your heart skip. her eyes are barely liddied now, she swallows, biting down on the inside of her lip, before a slow, uncertain smile begins to take over her face. 

“you look so good right now,” she murmurs, her voice low, almost rough. her hand reaches up, covering yours, holding it there against her cheek, like she’s trying to commit the moment to memory, almost like it’ll end anytime – soon, or now.

you’re close enough to feel her breath, the slight catch in it. “good enough for you?” you ask softly, a smile playing at your lips, your words teasing, but your heart racing.

she chuckles, but it’s quiet, and her gaze doesn’t waver. “better than good,” she whispers, her hand falling from yours, trailing down to your waist, her fingers grazing the bare skin there, gentle, hesitant, like she’s testing the feel of you, seeing if you’ll pull away, but you don’t. minji smirks. “are you… seeing anyone?”

the question hangs between you, heavy and thrilling. you shake your head, your pulse pounding beneath her touch. “no one at all.”

she exhales, her voice barely above a whisper. “good.” her fingers press into your waist just a little more, her gaze flickering down to your lips, and you watch, almost dizzy, as she wets her own, her tongue darting out, just barely, the movement so subtle you’d miss it if you weren’t so close.

your hand moves from her cheek, trailing slowly down to the open collar of her shirt, brushing along her collarbone. her breath hitches, and her head tilts slightly, just enough for your fingers to press against her skin, her eyes closing for the briefest moment before she meets your gaze again. you don’t realize how close you’ve drawn until you feel her breath warm against your lips.

she glances at your lips for what seems the tenth time. you two are clearly vibrating on the same wave length, it’s evident.

then, with the faintest, almost imperceptible smile, minji closes the space between you, her mouth soft, warm, pressing into yours, a little unsure, like she’s savoring every second of it. her hand at your waist tightens, pulling you closer, her fingertips grazing the curve of your hip as she leans in, her other hand moving to cradle the side of your face, her thumb grazing your cheek. the world around you slips away, and all that’s left is her—the warmth of her lips, the feeling of her touch, and the overwhelming sense that every daydream you had is getting outdone by this moment. this real moment.

it’s so real when she pulls away with rosy cheeks. she looks at you nervously, as if she didn’t just take the oxygen from your lungs.

“was that alright?” she asks, sounding unsure. it’s cute, she’s cute, god she’s so cute.

“perfect.” you mumble.

your hand moves to where her tie is, it’s loose around her collar, making it easier for you to tug her right back into you. she gasps from surprise and groans into your lips, kissing you hard.

her fingers press into your skin and you shiver, parting your lips ever so slightly to sigh softly. minji smirks against your skin, trailing to your jawline with light pecks as you release your grip on her tie and snake your hand around her neck.

“i’ve–” a kiss to the side of your throat, “wanted to—” a kiss lower, “do this for—” and a soft kiss to the base of your neck, “so long.” 

your breath shakes after she finishes the sentence, she kisses your neck once more.

minji parts, moving you over so you’re is against some random, heavy box on the side of the shed and now both arms are around your neck. you’re a few more kisses in, mixed with content sighs and groans and handfuls of hair before you two almost bite each other’s lips off from the sound of the door opening. 

you barely have time to pull away, minji’s lips are still a breath from yours, her hand lingering at your waist. you both turn to see danielle, hanni, and yunjin standing in the doorway, eyes wide. you and minji spring apart, the movement so fast that it would be funny if you were witnessing the situation.

danielle’s shock morphs into a grin as she exchanges a look with hanni, and yunjin just has a hand over her mouth.

hanni’s mouth drops open before breaking into a smirk, her eyes flickering with pure satisfaction. 

“oh my god.” hanni breathes, relief in her voice. “it actually worked.”

before you or minji can respond, utterly confused considering they all look relieved rather than disgusted, yunjin takes one look at you and minji and bursts out laughing,

“i knew it! i knew you two would finally do something if we left you alone long enough.”

minji blinks, looking as if she’s still processing. you glance between them, your cheeks warm. “what?” you say exasperatedly, “what do you mean ‘finally’? what— what is all this?”

The three of them exchange looks before danielle nudges yunjin forward, her grin growing. “so uh, we might’ve had a little something to do with the door locking. maybe on purpose. maybe. perchance.”

“definitely on purpose.” hanni adds, crossing her arms. “we were all tired of watching you guys dance around your feelings. you two needed a push.”

minji stares at them with a mix of embarrassment and dawning realizaiton. then she glances at you, her face flushing before turning back to the trio.

“you all planned this?”

hanni nods, looking like she’s enjoying this way too much. “you guys are hopeless. you know? everyone could see that you two wanted each other except you two. who the hell nudges their friends like that? you both are like middle schoolers with their first crush.”

you exchange yet another glance with minji, who’s biting her lip. there’s a surprise mirroring on her face, and honestly it’s really cute. adorably cute. 

despite all the embarrassment, you can’t help but laugh, a little breathless.

“so… this was all a setup?” minji says, looking at them with a half-laugh, half-disbelieving shake of her head.

danielle shrugs, stepping aside to give you both room to leave the shed. “well, it worked, didn’t it?”

yunjin’s grin is teasing as she waves you both out, her eyes bright with excitement. “yeah, finally,” she echoes, a satisfied smirk on her face. you glance at minji, who’s still looking at you, and a shy, almost playful smile tugs at her lips.

and as you both step out of the shed, shoulder to shoulder, the knowing smiles of your friends after they glance behind, there’s a giddiness accompanying the space between you and minji.

they all explain something about your booths being over because you two were too busy making out — you barely listen — and minji nudges your shoulder again when they’re far enough to not hear her.

you turn, tilting your head a bit before she leans down a bit to mumble, “you know, i heard that if you don’t kiss me again, for at least an hour, bloody mary might show up in your room tonight.”

a laugh escapes your lips and you push minji, who’s grinning at you like an idiot. you roll your eyes and reach out to hold her hand, she squeezes yours excitedly. 

“that’s a new one. are you sure it’s true?”

minji quickly cups your cheek and steals a kiss, parting away to make sure your friends don’t turn around and tease you two relentlessly.

“that one just got rid of all the bad energy from before.”

“what bad energy?”

“the one that’s building up every second you don’t kiss me. it also builds up if you don’t go out with me for lunch tomorrow. or ever.”

you roll your eyes once more, then glance at your friends before kissing minji’s cheek.

“i can’t risk any of that, can i?”