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ronearoundblindly · 7 months ago

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Big Pharma

Steve Rogers x doctor!Reader

Written for @stargazingfangirl18's Birthday Bonenanza--HAPPY BDAY, SIRI!--using the scenario prompt ~quick, frantic, secret sex in an almost public place + babe's hand over your mouth to keep you quiet~ and the dialogue prompt "goddamnit, will you just f***ing let me do this for you?" with free use kink for good measure. Why not?

Summary: The extreme drug cocktail you devise to save Steve Rogers has one major side effect.

Warnings for smut 🥴, sorta dub-con because it's like sex pollen, F E E L S, Steve being the most chivalrous gentleman while railing you (do it for your country, babes 🫡), completely unintentional dirty talk from Steve but 😮‍💨 we'll allow it, Tony being Tony, and--as always-- terrible puns. (There are no mentions of any medical instruments, except an IV, which is not used.) MINORS DNI. This is a mature gift work; see my Light Masterlist for all-age fanfic that is fine for minors. WC 2k

The constant photoflash burns into your retinas obnoxiously, and you’re not even the subject of the paparazzi.

Captain America is alive—all thanks to you—though he could easily have been six-feet under by now. The mysterious infection was so bad and spread so far, the drug regimen you administered constitutes one of the Avengers’ biggest Hail Marys to date, but it’s working. That’s all that matters…to the world. Behind the scenes is a different story.

As Captain Rogers turns to the next hand he must shake, his sharp blue eyes find you, twinged with a familiar fear.

This stupid event scheduled by Stark to boost morale, to show Cap is just fine and back in fighting form, has gone on too long. It’s happening again.

You worried Rogers might not make it when suddenly Stark showed up hours earlier than the initial, planned press conference—because, of course, there’s meet-and-greets, quick interviews, and these damn handshakes. He’s only gone so long between treatments for the last week.

You nod at Cap and make your way in the small crowd back to Stark. You tell him you’ll need a room, somewhere private to put in the IV, and at least thirty minutes to administer the huge dose. Rogers’s super-metabolism makes it necessary to use approximately forty times the prescription average for antibiotics and steroids. In theory, the side effects are well worth his speedy recovery.

Well, the only side effect.

Stark looks horrendously annoyed. “Can’t you just shoot him up with it and be done?” He doesn’t need your lecture repeated though. “Fine, there’s a greenroom thing over there, but you’ve got fifteen minutes at most, you hear me?”

“Twenty-five, Mr. Stark. He’s not a water balloon.”

“Twenty or he can wheel the damn thing around with him.”

You gulp in nervousness, but the problem isn’t Stark’s attitude. Rogers isn’t going to like rushing this. He feels shame enough already.

“I’ll make it work,” you assure the stubborn playboy. If he only knew…

“Good. A team player. We value that here.”

You have no fucking idea how ironic that is, you scream internally, but you follow him to a door off a back hallway, a room that shares a wall with the space all those people are gathered, and thank Stark.

“Oh good, he’s heard the dog-whistle of treat time,” Tony quips, and you swivel to see Cap trailing behind you.

He’s already made his excuses to step away, too. It must be bad.

You’re sure to pull out your props of a saline drip and tubing from your bag while Tony can still see, but you drop the act the instant the door clicks shut.

Cap take one step forward to flip the lock, immediately unzipping the fly of his iconic leather suit.

See, the only side effect of the drugs is Rogers gets hard, often, and can’t find relief from his efforts alone. Through trial-and-error, the clear solution has been help—discretely—from the only medical professional allowed around him until his condition improved.

Of course, he fought it. Of course, you wanted to preserve his dignity. Of course, you tried to keep it as perfunctory, methodical, and uninspired as possible, but the thing is, that didn’t last.

The more distant and cold the experience, the faster he became desperate and wanting again, and now you have just twenty minutes to make sure Captain America can hold out for hours.

Steve, you remind yourself. He prefers you not use respectful address when engaging is what he deems entirely disrespectful behavior.

You need to get him off in essentially no time at all, so you’ve decided: go big or go home.

Bag tossed to the floor, you unbutton your pants and shimmy out of everything from shoes to panties, letting the longer tail of your dress shirt barely cover your modesty.

Steve looks dumbfounded. It’s bad enough he has to run to you for a handy every few hours, but this?

“Doc, no,” he breaths.

“I understand the procedure,” you say calmly, echoing his harrowing consent from that first night he needed you.

Steve’s brow furrows in strain. “We shouldn’t…”

‘We’ are way past ‘shouldn’t,’ buddy.

“Can’t ask you to…“ but he also knows time’s a wasting.

He’s already fisting himself, struggling to be the gentleman he never stopped being, which at the moment is a huge problem because both of you need to get through the day—you without losing your job and him without popping a boner on national television.

It’s your job to break him and break him right now.

“Goddamnit, will you just fucking let me do this for you?”

There’s a flat smack on the door.

“Do whatever the lady wants and then get back out here,” Tony yells from the other side. “Put us all out of our misery,” he ends with a grumble.

That is by far the most helpful thing Stark has said in the last week, so you mouth “see” and begin undoing your blouse from the bottom, giving Steve his first peek of you. His hand speeds along his length, adam’s apple bobbing in concentration.

“Here, I’ll make it easy for you,” you whisper. You walk to the far corner of the room, put your hands up, shirt rising over your bare ass, and face the wall. Your voice is soothing, pleading even. “Just take what you need.”

In some ways, you feel responsible for his predicament. You are the prescribing doctor, he isn’t in a relationship where a partner could assist, and he insists no one else know. He doesn’t deserve to be poked and prodded more than necessary, and you can’t give him any other meds in combination. None of it is his fault same as none of it is yours. You only intended to heal him.

Truthfully though, none of this is just about his release anymore, much as you’d like to dismiss your feelings.

You can’t deny, however, that each time the air gets a little thicker with tension, the body language a little more intimate. Steve has kept his eyes open, clutched your free hand to his chest, rolled his hips open, and thrust up into your fist. The greater the satisfaction of his climax, the longer he retains control.

“When this is over…I swear,” he grits out, getting closer word by word until his deep voice is right by your ear.

He tugs your shirt up to dip his fingers between your legs. “Been smelling you for two days. Can’t do anything until—” Steve growls, feeling how slick you’ve become in anticipation “—you’re ready for me.”

His concern washes away when two fingers easily breech you to the knuckle and are immediately replaced by the blunt head of his cock dragging between your folds.

You didn’t expect him to give in so fast. You didn’t expect him to have known this aroused you. The idea he might want to continue, to go further, races down your spine, following the opposite path of Steve leaning into you. His forehead presses your occipital as yours presses the wall. The heat of him makes you arch in luxurious proximity.

Steve fucking forward to enter you in one smooth motion makes you forget to be quiet, but before the whole shout of ecstasy escapes, his hand covers your mouth.

“Shhh, Doc,” he breathes at the base of your neck. “Be good for me.”

That only gets you moaning into the seam of his gloves.

His hips start a staccato rhythm, a second of loud friction for each second of silent, fulfilling pressure.

Steve slips his still wet fingers under your shirt and beneath the cup of your bra to swirl a smooth pattern over your nipple. Instead of voicing your approval, you shove yourself back into him faster.

You notice the muffled chatting of Tony and someone else outside while your eyes roll. The slap of your skin against the Cap suit becomes the loudest thing in the room, but that’s not what Steve minds.

He pulls out and spins you around, pausing to see the cream you’ve created at the base of him drip to the carpet below.

Deep sea eyes meet yours through golden lashes.

“If I can’t hear you…” Steve hoists you up to his waist, threading one arm through the bend in your knee, spreading you wide and diving in swiftly.

Your body curls forward automatically to grasp at him and smother yourself in the leather of his shoulder pad. This pace is much faster, purposeful, utterly unravelling you. The position delivers more range of motion, all of the buildup and less of the noise, with the added benefit of his tool belt nudging your clit repeatedly.

Tony pounds on the door. “‘Bout done in there, guys? Let’s go.” How apt, the unknowing jester.

Steve pants, open-mouthed, against your temple.

You smile but can’t stop your own ruin.

A groan gets buried in your disheveled hair. “Are you…close?” His hips snap brutally. “Are you—“ he sounds wrecked “—you gonna…come on my—uungh.”

You tip over the edge, clutching him tight and fluttering for him in every way. The detonation of your orgasm burns red behind your eyelids like camera flashes, a dirty snapshot for you alone.

“Mercy,” Steve begs, gripping your ass to rut into you, desperate to join. His neck tenses as he spills inside you, pulse throbbing in time with his cock.

He leans against you and the wall, his steady weight stilling your shaky legs. Slowly, your feet are guided to the floor and Steve steps away to wipe away any evidence of his ‘therapeutic treatment.’ His breathing settles much faster than yours, and by the time he’s tucked back in with his suit righted, you’re simply sliding down the wall to catch up.

He hurries over to the small vanity and mini fridge—usually ‘guests’ for speaking (or interrogating) wait here—to bring you supplies.

A box of tissues is set by your side.

“So…” he hands you a bottle of water “…maybe…dinner tonight?”

You set the water down in favor of cleaning yourself, glancing up to offer a reassuring dismissal. “This morning was your last dose,” you remind him. “It should be over soon.”

Steve may not need this anymore, may never need you again, but he doesn’t miss a single beat.

“I’d like—I want to take you some place nice, but…” He chugs his whole water then quickly unclasps the glove on his left hand, rolling up his sleeve, veins jumping over a thick forearm.

“I don’t know what food you enjoy.”

Arguably, he knows a few other things that you enjoy.

There’s another impatient bang at the door.

“I—“ Your heart soars with the soft sincerity of his face, no trace of fear left behind, no hesitation. “I’m gonna need a minute.”

Steve stands, smoothing a hand over his hair. “I’ll lock it behind me…and, um, thank you, Doc.”

It’s the first time he hasn’t apologized this whole week.

“You’re welcome, sir.”

Steve flashes you a dopey smile and shakes his head. “See you out there,” he chuckles.

You can’t be seen when the door opens just enough for Steve to step out, but he makes a show of rolling the suit’s sleeve back down like he really did have an IV infusion, selling the lie like a pro. He keeps Tony talking while shutting you back into your debauched bubble.

Through the wall, you still hear “could you have gone any slower?” followed by a curt, “yes,” and have to stifle a laugh.

“What’d you do, blow a vein?”

You’re picturing an incredibly ironic look on Captain Rogers’ face.

“Just be grateful she puts up with us, Tony…” and their voices disappear down the hall.

His treatment may be finished, but Steve wants you to stick around. He wants you.

Would having dinner with that man really be so terrible? No. Not at all. Even the ‘worst’ of this situation has been a great fucking experience. You don’t want to give that up yet.

It seems you’re both addicted now.

[Main Masterlist; Steve Rogers One-Shots; Ko-Fi]

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yuujispinkhair · 2 months ago

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CHRISTMAS IN THE COUNTRY

Cowboy!Sukuna x Reader (female). Fluff. 800 words. Minors don't interact. Mentions of cigarettes. This drabble is part of my Cowboy!Sukuna series, but you don't need to know the main story to read it. Divider by @/issysh3ll

In the past, Cowboy!Sukuna never joined the annual Christmas tractor parade that all the other farmers and cowboys around your small town participate in. Sukuna thought it was stupid and cheesy, and after all, he had his reputation as the lonesome, bad boy cowboy who was more likely to be the Grinch than Santa!

But that was until you found your way into Sukuna's heart. You moved into his ranch and brought Christmas with you. And now you stand before him with that fucking cute pout on your pretty face and practically beg him,

"Kunaaaa, please you should join! Just think of how happy it makes the little kids to see all the decorated tractors!"

Sukuna huffs at first, while hugging you to his tall body, craving your warmth after he just came back from fixing the fences in those freezing temperatures,

"I don't care about those random kids."

"But you care about me, and I know you want to make me happy, right? And it would make me very happy to join that Christmas parade with you, baby."

Fuck, how could he say no to you when you give him those puppy dog eyes and that sweet smile? Sukuna laughs, grabbing your chin with one hand, and he leans down to bring his face closer to yours, grinning as he whispers against your lips,

"You are not fighting fair, baby."

His lips claim yours in a slow, teasing kiss before Sukuna pulls away again. He cocks his head and tips his cowboy hat,

"Alright, I'll drive to town and run some Christmas errands for you, ma'am."

And you laugh and blow him a kiss, telling him to drive safe just like you always do, always so sweet to him. Always worried about him, wrapping him in your love. Sukuna is already walking towards his truck, lighting a cigarette, when you open the kitchen window to yell after him that you'll cook his favorite dinner while he is away and some Christmas cookies, too. Sukuna wonders if his cheeks hurt from the icy wind blowing in his face or from how much he is smiling.

He drives to the small hardware store you used to work in before you moved into Sukuna's ranch, and he returns to you a few hours later carrying several boxes of fairy lights and LED decorations in various shapes and forms.

You laugh that sweet laugh Sukuna loves so much when you see him,

"Oh my god, Sukuna! I didn't think you'd buy the whole Christmas section!"

"Well, my girl said she wants to participate in the Christmas parade, so I will make damn sure I have the best fucking Christmas tractor there is!"

The left corner of Sukuna's lips twitches, and a second later, he breaks out into laughter, too. He lets the Christmas lights drop to the kitchen floor when you fling yourself at him, and Sukuna wraps a tattooed arm tightly around your waist, pulling you against him, smiling when you get on your tiptoes to kiss him.

Sukuna keeps his word, just like he always does when it comes to you. He spends hours in the barn decorating his old John Deere, wrapping it in fairy lights, and fixing the blinking Santa and reindeer figures to the roof.

Sukuna thinks it looks absolutely horrendous. A big blinking Christmas monstrosity. But then you walk into the barn and gasp and stare at the all-decked-out tractor. Your eyes shine even brighter than the crazy number of fairy lights that Sukuna just attached to his old John Deere. And he thinks to himself that it was all worth it.

Sukuna climbs into the tractor, extending a hand to you, which you take, and he pulls you up and into his lap. You are surrounded by hundreds of blinking fairy lights that cast the inside of the tractor into a colorful, festive light.

Sukuna's arms wrap around you as he presses play on his phone, which is connected to the tractor's radio. The Christmas playlist you shared with him starts playing, filling the inside of the tractor with your favorite Christmas songs.

"Is this what you had in mind, sweetheart?"

Sukuna asks, his smile clearly audible in his low voice. And you turn around so you're straddling Sukuna's lap and look at him, reaching out to cup his tattooed face with your small hands, beaming at him happily,

"Yes, this is even more than I had in mind! It's perfect! Thank you so much! Merry Christmas, baby. I love you."

"I love you, too. Merry Christmas, princess... but there's one more thing."

Sukuna points up at the little mistletoe that he glued to the ceiling earlier and that's dangling above your heads now. You chuckle while Sukuna grins his most charming boyish grin at you, waiting for you to kiss it off his lips with a sweet, long Christmas kiss.

And for the first time in his adult life Sukuna thinks that Christmas is truly magical.

SIGHHHHHHH oh how I missed Cowboy!Sukuna 💗💗 I went to a tractor parade, and of course, all I could think about was Cowboy!Sukuna, so I HAD to write this cute little drabble!! I hope it made you happy, too.

Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays to all my fellow Sukuna lovers 💗

#sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #sukuna #jjk x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk fluff

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bitchface24-7 · 2 months ago

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Hii! I've been scrolling through all your works and I just want to say I am ✨obsessed✨ so I saw a post where you were asking for fluff or angst request and I really really REALLY wanna see what Viktor and jayce would do if they're jealous or being protective! Like they saw reader at one of the parties and was being incredibly hit on. Would also be nice if it would be like pre-relationship! Like they're gonna confess or something, I don't really know this is my first time asking for request acckkk

(I really really want it to be jayvik x reader too pls 🙏🙏)

GREEN EYED - JAYVIK X READER

synopsis: everyone knows the three of you are together. It’s no secret either. So imagine their surprise when the three of you go to a council party and a few guests flirt with you. They're not very happy about that…

warnings: unwanted flirting, Jayce and Viktor saving you, pre-established relationship, Viktor hits/trips people with his cane, Jayce is a bodyguard, fluff, suggestiveness, Grammarly is my beta

genre: m/m/f or m/m/m

p.s. Oooh this was fun and funny to write. I'd be so flustered if they acted this way toward me. Hope y'all like it! Love ya ❤️

This party is horrendous. The food has no flavour, the alcohol isn't strong enough, and too many people are trying to flirt with you.

Viktor angrily sips on his champagne, his knuckles white at how hard he's holding the glass. Jayce's eyes are narrowed as he picks at the food he's attempting to eat.

All because some middle aged man with a heavily receding hairline is looking at you the way a lion looks at an antelope. Like your his prey.

“Whos turn is it now?” Jayce asks, eyeing the man down as he pops a cube of cheese into his mouth, “Mine.” Viktor states as he shoots back the rest of his champagne.

Jayce nods and Viktor casually walks over to where you're awkwardly standing. He completely understands why so many people are flirting with you. You have a sparkling personality and a gorgeous look. Beautiful on the inside and out.

Especially right now. You're wearing form-fitting black slacks, a billowy white shirt with an embroidered corset, showing off your waist and black loafers. Your hair is framing your face in a lovely way.

Your face is in a slight grimace as you sip champagne, leaning back away from the older man.

The man grunts in pain as Viktor whips his achilles tendon with an amazing aim, “Oh I'm so sorry,” Viktor apologizes, his tone full of fake concern, “I didn't mean to hit you, it was an accident.”

You huff lightly as your eyes glimmer at your lover, the older man looks cross. His face worsens at Viktors next words.

“I was coming over to see my partner and I accidentally stumbled. My bad.”

You hide your laugh behind your glass as the old mans face turns red in both anger and embarrassment. “You’re dating them?” He questions you, pointing incredulously at Viktor.

A hum is heard as you sip your champagne again, “I told you that five minutes ago, and you completely ignored me.”

The man sputters and essentially runs away. You and Viktor stand there in silence for a bit before the two of you laugh, and you continue to laugh as you walk back to Jayce.

Jayce's dark look has completely vanished, and he looks like a puppy now. Big smile, sparkling eyes, dimples out. If Jayce had a tail it'd be wagging a mile a minute.

“My heroes.” You croon at the two of them. A smirk on your lips as the two men fake innocence.

“I don't know what you're talking about?” Jayce says, his tone light and joking. You laugh and the two men smile at you. Ironically enough, now a woman comes up to talk to you. You groan in irritation and before the man can start talking to you, Jayce moves in front of you, the only thing you see is his deliciously broad back.

“They’re taken.”

The woman sputters, her eyes wide as her mouth opens and closes, “But—”

Jayce repeats himself, his tone firmer, darker.

“They’re taken, go away.”

The woman huffs and stomps away, her heels clacking harshly against the marble floor. Jayce sighs and falls back towards your side. Both you and Viktor smirk at the tall man. He looks confused.

“What?”

“Babe that was so sexy.” You tease.

“Got me hot under the collar.” Viktor adds, jokingly fanning himself. Jayce flushes all the way to his ears, grabbing a glass of champagne off the table and throwing it back.

“Shut up.”

The two of you laugh and Jayce's playful irritation melts away. He loves seeing the two of you laugh.

When another person comes up to talk to you the three of you groan. Jayce blocks you and Viktor again as you go to leave the party, the man doesn't read the room and goes to follow you two. Viktor subtly moves his cane a bit further out than normal and the man falls on his face.

You don't see anyone's reaction to his fall since you're already out the door, going back home.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You sigh and try to take your corset off. You get mad at have a mini-tantrum. You're tired, you want to relax with your boys and slouch lazily on the couch. You can't do that with this corset.

You feel a large hand settle on your waist and slowly untie the laces in the back. You sigh in pleasure as the corset is loosened. It’s fitted to you perfectly, and its super comfy, but you don't have the best posture. So being forced to stand straight for a few hours has made your back sore.

You groan as you roll your shoulders, your back popping. You turn your head and kiss Jayce on the cheek.

Jayce smiles as you plop onto the couch next to Viktor, your shirt now much looser falls down your shoulder slightly. You untuck your shirt from your pants and it damn near falls down to mid-thigh. You unbutton your pants and shimmy out of them.

You're at home with your lovers, you're getting comfy goddamn it.

“What a show we're getting.” Viktor jokes as he lays a hand on your thigh, watching intently as you drop your head onto the back of the sofa. Jayce joins the two of you on the couch and kisses your bare shoulder.

“The amount of money those people at the party would pay to see you like this.”

“Theres not enough money in the world for me to leave you two.”

Viktor hums, “Is that so?” and brushes his nose against the crook of your neck, kissing, biting, and licking; leaving a dark hickey.

Jayce follows suit onto the other side.

You sigh in pleasure, “You two putting a claim on me? What? You two jealous of the people at the party?”

Jayce growls and Viktor chuckles, “Not jealous darling, possessive. We know you're ours, but it seems others don't.”

“So we’re rectifying that.” Jayce adds, nipping your jaw.

You just smile, wrapping one arm around each of them, “I’m not complaining. Rectify away!”

They both stop giving you hickies and both kiss your cheek at the same time, your face squishing together. Then the litter your face with kisses, making you giggle in elation.

Why on earth would you ever go from one of those people at the party when you have the best partners in the world?

No one could ever compare to them. No one.

You're the luckiest person in the world.

(On the other hand, Viktor and Jayce think they're the luckiest people in the world.)

Oh to be their partner in the arcane world. Why can't they exist irl 😭😭

Hope y'all enjoyed it, love ya ❤️

#arcane #arcane imagine #arcane x reader #viktor arcane #jayce talis #viktor x reader #viktor imagine #jayce x reader #jayce imagine #jayvik x reader #banners by cafekitsune

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00valentina-writes00 · 2 months ago

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Posting somthing that isn’t sevika???? Unheard of

Anyways-

VI DATING HEADCANONS + a Cute Drabble

Vi is naturally protective of her girl. Whether you’re in Piltover or Zaun, she insists on walking you home, her arm wrapped securely around your waist. If anyone so much as looks at you wrong, she’ll shoot them a death glare—or worse.

Vi is incredibly touchy. She loves holding your hand, resting her chin on your shoulder, or pulling you into a hug from behind. Her love language is physical touch, and she craves that connection constantly.

Vi shows her love through actions. She’ll fix things around your place, bring you your favorite snack, or leave her jacket draped over your shoulders when you’re cold.

Vi loves simple dates—grabbing greasy food from street vendors, exploring Zaun’s markets, or sparring with you just for fun. But she’ll also surprise you with occasional grand gestures, like taking you to a rooftop to watch the city lights.

Vi tries to play it cool, but she’s easily jealous. If someone flirts with you, she’ll wrap an arm around your waist and kiss your temple, making it crystal clear you’re hers

She doesn’t care much about social norms or what others think. If someone makes a snide comment about you, she won’t hesitate to step in, fists clenched and ready to defend you

While she loves teasing, Vi has a soft spot for calling you endearing names when it’s just the two of you—“baby,” “love,” or even a unique nickname tied to an inside joke. She tries out the weirdest nicknames for you too, ranging from “Snuggle Punch” to “Hot Pocket.” The worst part? She says them with complete sincerity. You had to veto “Big Toe”

Vi has exactly three cooking settings: “burnt,” “raw,” and “how is the fire alarm not going off yet?” Every date night she insists she’ll “nail it this time,” and every date night ends with takeout and her swearing vengeance on your oven.

She constantly tries to convince you that chips and energy drinks are a balanced meal. If you so much as suggest eating a vegetable, she’ll dramatically gag and say, “I didn’t survive the Lanes to die of kale poisoning, babe.”

Vi sucks at being low-key when she’s plotting a surprise for you. She’ll come back from shopping with a giant bag, shove it behind her back, and loudly declare, “You didn’t see anything! Nope, definitely not a gift for you in here!”

If you work out together, Vi’s that girlfriend who slaps your back and yells, “ONE MORE REP, BABE!” like she’s training you for the Zaunite Olympics. But the second you spot her doing squats, she’s flexing and asking if you’re checking her out.

She has zero chill when someone flirts with you. She’ll immediately put on her gauntlets (if she has them nearby) or crack her knuckles and stare the poor soul down while saying, “What part of ‘taken’ did you miss, buddy?”

Vi has horrendous taste in movies and insists on watching the cheesiest action flicks with you. She’ll quote every single bad one-liner like it’s gospel and randomly yell, “EXPLOSIONS!” during quiet scenes.

Vi is the queen of spontaneous dumb ideas. “Babe, let’s wrestle.” “Babe, I think we should dye your hair pink.” “Babe, dare me to jump over that fence.” (Spoiler: she’ll do it whether or not you dare her.)

Vi texts like she’s trying to solve a riddle, constantly sending random emojis that make no sense. “🏴‍☠️🥊🔥🦖” somehow translates to, “I’m at the gym, love you, want pizza later?”

Vi snores. Loudly. And if you try to wake her up, she’ll grumble something like, “Shut up, babe. I’m fighting shimmer thugs in my dream.” She also steals all the blankets and leaves you clinging to the corner of the bed like it’s a survival raft.

If she gets the tiniest injury, she’ll act like she’s on her deathbed. “Babe, I think my pinky’s broken. You might need to kiss it better. No, wait, kiss my whole hand. Actually, better make it both hands—just in case.” (Only for you though.)

Vi loves hitting you with the dumbest pickup lines imaginable. “Are you shimmer? ‘Cause you’ve got me addicted, babe.” She’ll then smirk like she’s the smoothest person alive.

————————————————————————____________________________________________

You sat at a table in the corner of The Last Drop, sipping on your drink while Vi sulked dramatically next to you. She had her chin propped on her hand, eyes darting to a group across the room. You followed her gaze to a couple of young women laughing and glancing in your direction.

“Vi, they’re not even looking at me anymore,” you whispered, trying not to laugh.

“Oh, they were looking, alright,” Vi grumbled, narrowing her eyes. “I saw it. That one in the green? She was trying to undress you with her eyes. And not even subtly.”

You rolled your eyes. “They were probably just curious about your big, scary gauntlets. Or the fact that you stomped in here like you own the place.”

“I do own the place when I’m with you,” she said, dead serious. Then she grabbed your hand and laced her fingers through yours. “Look. If anyone tries anything, I’ll break their noses. Just blink twice if I need to go over there.”

“Vi,” you said, squeezing her hand, “no one’s coming over here. And if they do, I can handle myself.”

She glanced at you, clearly skeptical. “Babe, I love you, but you once tripped over your own feet walking to the kitchen.”

You burst out laughing, making her smirk.

“Oh, you think I’m funny?” she teased, leaning closer until her face was inches from yours. “What’s funny is the fact that you can’t stop thinking about me.”

“Oh yeah?” you said, leaning back with a grin. “You’re so cocky. What would you do if I wasn’t thinking about you?”

Vi’s expression turned mock-serious. “I’d probably throw myself into the Hexgate,” she deadpanned. “Start a new life on the other side of the world.”

You snorted. “And then what? Punch your way back to zaun?”

“Damn right,” she said, sitting up straight and puffing out her chest. “No one gets to steal my girl’s attention. Not even a Hexgate.”

Despite her ridiculous antics, her thumb gently traced circles over your hand, grounding you in the little moment you shared. You leaned into her side, your laughter dying into a soft smile.

“You’re an idiot,” you murmured.

“And you’re stuck with me,” she shot back, pressing a quick kiss to your temple.

Yeah, you were stuck with her. But with Vi, life was never boring—and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#arcane #vi arcane #vi x reader #vi x you #vi x y/n #violet arcane #vi headcanons #vi imagines #arcane x female reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x you #arcane drabbles #arcane imagine #arcane x reader #arcane headcanon

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pupyuj · 2 months ago

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→ “cherry on top.” || jang wonyoung x reader fic.

— gifting your girlfriend a beautiful (and expensive) necklace was going to be the perfect way to end the last night of your winter getaway but with the necklace being forgotten all the way back to your shared apartment, wonyoung decides on the next best thing…

word count: 3.7k.

dynamic: dom!jang wonyoung x sub!actress!reader.

warnings: age gap, reader is older, lots of biting and marking, fingering, mommy kink, praise kink, hair pulling, reader being an actress doesn't really play a big part lol, wonyoung is down horrendous, wony is also lowkey into pain like whoa!

requested?: nope.

a/n: fun fact, i wanted to drop this fic around/on christmas but ofc, i didn’t have enough time so i just made it winter-themed instead 😭 i would have loved to actually drop something from my wip list that's actually been there for a while but since this ended up being a short one, i decided to go with it instead! i hope you guys like it though! i know it's not my best work ever BUT this will be a nice little step to get me back to my writing machine roots 😎😎

“i really don’t know why i’m doing all of this. it’s really nothing special,” you shared a giggle with your girlfriend, wonyoung, as you guided her along the hallways. you made her wear your favorite sleeping mask to completely obscure her vision for the sole reason of surprising her with what you have spent quite a bit of time setting up earlier in the afternoon. wonyoung, despite her excitement, takes her next steps carefully. she didn’t want a stupid incident to take attention away from what you so obviously worked hard on. “but i think this is the best way to end our little trip.” you halted her steps, giving her a soft kiss from behind her shoulder and finally lifting up the mask.

wonyoung blinks several times to have her eyes adjust to the lights that illuminated the lodge. what she saw in the living room area was a humble picnic set up! soft sheets lay on the center of the room (wonyoung noticed that you pushed the coffee table aside for space) accompanied with a few pillows, a wicker basket filled with pasties, wine, and other snacks was sitting right beside it along with a bouquet of pink tulips, and right on the sheets was your laptop with Clueless more than ready to start playing.

“oh, unnie, this is wonderful!” wonyoung whips around and squeezes you for a tight hug. you returned the embrace with the same amount of love, even going as far as to giving a kiss to the side of her head. wonyoung proceeded on tugging you over at your little set-up and sat you down. one would think that you ended world hunger with the way her eyes shined as she stared at you. you tried to ignore that sinking feeling in your stomach—guilt. because as lovely as this was, this trip should not be ending like this. you had something far better planned! but you should have expected with the way you and wonyoung rushed to start the trip that you would forget the most important item that you would be gifting her—the prettiest diamond necklace that even made a successful and rich actress like yourself sweat with how expensive it was.

but you weren’t going to tell wonyoung about the dent it made on your bank account, like ever. anyhow, you realized that you completely forgot about the necklace on the previous night. you weren’t able to sleep much since something in the back of your mind was screaming at you to check your bags and make sure everything was perfect for the next day and alas, the necklace was nowhere to be found! if wonyoung hadn’t been sleeping peacefully, you would have screamed out of pure frustration at yourself!

there was no use crying over spilt milk, however. and so, you spent the rest of that nearly-sleepless night thinking up of ways to end the trip on a good note even without the necklace. a cute indoor picnic was the idea you liked the most, and now that you’ve seen how much wonyoung appreciates it, perhaps the idea wasn’t too bad. the next problem to tackle was explaining all the trouble you went through to set this all up to wonyoung, but maybe that should be saved for until you’re both too buzzed to care about anything else.

“i hope you don’t think this is boring compared to everything we’ve been doing for the past week, love.” you said as you filled up two glasses with wonyoung’s favorite white wine. (upon noticing this, wonyoung couldn’t keep her eyes off of you. maybe it was painfully simple of her to fawn over the fact that you remembered her favorite drink because it was the bare minimum considering you’ve been dating for years now, but it is as they say: it’s the little things! so, do pardon wonyoung for falling in love with you just a little bit deeper.) a surprised sound escapes your lips when you feel your girlfriend pressing her lips on your jawline, but then you laugh at how her hair tickled your skin.

when wonyoung leaned back and saw that she left a faint kiss mark on your jawline, she let out a satisfied smile. “what do you mean? this is lovely, unnie.” wonyoung can’t even remember all the times she has wished for one relaxing day with you, so she was beyond thankful that she had a whole week of just that. with her being a bigger idol than ever and you jumping from project to project, naturally neither of you had too much time to be together recently. but at least you were luckier than most celebrity couples who can’t even see each other at all! mostly because of their management that just refuses to give them time together. you and wonyoung were blessed with family, friends, and teams that supported your relationship so both of you made sure to enjoy this little trip with everything it had to offer.

“well, between skiing, having lunch in an observation deck atop the mountain, seeing the northern lights, and a picnic with some movies, which one would be more appealing to you?” you asked, leaning back on the pillows. almost automatically, you wrapped a single arm around wonyoung’s waist and pulled her closer to you.

“anything’s good with me as long as i’m with you. how’s that?” wonyoung replies with a grin, knowing she successfully made you cringe in your seat.

you laughed, shaking your head. “ew. cornball.”

the next three hours were a blur. thanks to wonyoung who was clearly having the time of her life, the two bottles of wine were finished relatively quickly. she had begged you to get just one more bottle, using everything in her power to convince you from fluttering her eyelashes, pouting, kissing you, and whispering naughty promises in your ear. as much as you didn’t want to wake up with a hangover, you couldn’t resist wonyoung. especially when all you could see in her eyes every time you looked at her was love!

surprisingly enough, wonyoung was… quiet. when she gets drunk, she’s usually so chatty and giggly. laughing at everything and nothing, sometimes she even turns into a whole pervert! inappropriate comments and all! but tonight, it seems like being in your embrace, basking in your scent, and listening to your heartbeat as she lay her head on your chest was everything she needed to be content. you turn your head steadily towards her, careful not to startle her away from your warmth. her eyes were closed and her breathing had slowed and gotten… heavier? was she asleep? well! that wasn’t how you expected your picnic night to go.

that is until you felt fingers sneak inside your hand-knit sweater, as well as plump lips pressed against your collarbone. a whimper accidentally escapes your lips at the cold sensation of wonyoung’s hand, and you can just tell that that was a sound you should not have allowed to come out of your mouth.

“you’re so sweet, (y/n)-unnie,” wonyoung was positively drunk! her cheeks were glaringly pink and a lazy smile spread across her face while she looked up at you from your shoulder. gods, she was adorable. but you didn’t have the time to revel in that fact when she suddenly straddles your lap, her long legs wrapping around your waist and keeping you in place. with nowhere to go, you were forced to look up at her this time. “planning this entire vacation behind my back, paying for everything and strongly refusing whenever i offered, giving me the best getaway of my life… why are you so perfect?”

“it’s what you deserve, wonyoung-ah.” your reply fell from your lips smoothly as if it was the only right answer to her question. and it really was.

wonyoung playfully rolled her eyes, “so do you. but i got distracted by how much thought you put into this entire vacation that i couldn’t think up of anything to make it up to you! except for one thing, of course…” you didn’t miss how wonyoung’s tongue swiftly brushed across her upper lip and how her smile now turned into something akin to a sly grin. her eyes spelled out her plan without needing the help of her words to which you adorably and pathetically blushed at upon realization.

“n-not everything is perfectly planned… i mean, this really wasn’t how i wanted to spend our last night here together! i was going to take you to the nearby town, have a candlelit dinner with the prettiest view of the frozen river and the snowy mountains, and… i was going to give you a—”

“—a necklace, right?” wonyoung cuts you off. (on the night you found out that the necklace was nowhere to be found, wonyoung was woken up by the sounds of your frustrated and heartbroken rants to one of your friends over the phone. you had no idea she heard everything. she made sure to hold you extra tight when you returned to bed in hopes of making you feel better. and naturally, it worked.) you pouted as you nod your head, once again feeling sad about how careless you were on the day you both set off on your vacation.

“i couldn’t believe i forgot to grab it… and i didn’t realize that i never brought it with us until yesterday! so you can imagine the stress i was under this entire day while i tried to set this all up!” you sighed deeply after your little rant. you pulled wonyoung close, putting your head in her chest as she consoled you. she couldn’t hold her laughter due to the sheer amount of cuteness aggression she was feeling over your whining, but she made sure to pat your back and kiss the top of your head.

“that explains why you abruptly left me by myself in the skating rink this afternoon! and why you came back all disheveled and out of breath! oh, unnie…” wonyoung only laughs harder when you tighten your hold around her waist—you were clearly embarrassed by your antics from earlier, but wonyoung thinks it’s so cute. you were older and wiser than her, but there are days where your childish and adorable side slips out and wonyoung thinks it’s so, so charming. and the way you don’t realize it makes it all ten times better. makes you ten times more… desirable. irresistible.

wonyoung starts to kiss you from your forehead, your nose, your cheek, your jawline… until she finally reaches your neck where she liked to just take you in and relish at how you shuddered at her actions, “necklace or not, the night would have ended up exactly the same… you did all this for me, and i would love to do things for you in return. many things.” you don’t realize that she reached behind you and undid the perfect ribbons she herself tied up for you. not until you felt her fingers drag across your now exposed skin while simultaneously giving your neck the softest kisses you’ve ever received.

“will you let me?”

she didn’t even need to ask. and she didn’t need to hear an answer from you. kissing her with never-before-seen passion was enough of a confirmation from you. wonyoung appreciates how you always allowed her to have control whenever things escalated. both of you knew you were too clueless about all this, but fortunately wonyoung wasn’t.

and thank heavens for that.

wonyoung tugs gently on your hair with one hand and holds your jaw tightly with the other, deepening the kiss, practically shoving her tongue inside your mouth and establishing dominance early on just because she so loves feeling the moment you submit to her. it happens when your shoulders relax, your hands fall on her thighs, and your hips desperately grind towards hers to quench your thirst. it’s a massive ego boost and if it wasn’t for you, wonyoung would feed on it until it consumed her… but she doesn’t allow that to happen. not anymore.

you deserve the utmost care and love and that was what she wanted to give you. what she will give you.

“mmhn.. wonyoung…” who would’ve thought that the brilliant young actress that the entire nation adores for her kind heart, bright-as-the-stars smile and unrivaled poise would elicit such sounds for a lover? but then again, jang wonyoung is not just any lover, is she?

wonyoung pulls your top over your head and tosses it elsewhere. she refused to believe that it was the wine that made you look a thousand times more delectable than usual, but rather, she accepted that you were just that stunning. with your hair unkempt in the most perfect way, your lip tint a mess on your face, chest heaving up and down, eyes clouded with longing… and the cherry on top? seeing that you were wearing the bra that wonyoung got you a few months back.

the younger girl bites her bottom lip at the sight, “please, have some patience.” whether wonyoung said that to you or to her very own hunger for you was unclear. she repositions herself so that she was now on all fours, her lips attached to yours once again but now… you had her hands on her. you wanted to feel her skin on yours, but wonyoung had plans of her own. she ignores your needy whines and your desperate attempts to undress her with great difficulty and continues on making a mess of your mind using her lips alone.

eventually, you were sitting on the couch while wonyoung was on her knees in front of you. your bra had been cast aside as well, leaving you fully topless. what a sight to behold, really. wonyoung spots a faint hickey on your collarbone, the one that she remembers putting there herself when she couldn’t help it after you both arrived at the lodge. there was another one on your shoulder which looked a lot more recent—that was from when she dragged you into the shower with her two days ago, and she was particularly proud of that one too!

you held wonyoung’s stare as her hand traveled slowly from your chest to your stomach. she was teasing you. enticing you to make a desperate action just so she can shut it down and hear you beg… but you know her game, and you don’t feel like playing it this time. besides, she asked you to ‘have some patience’! you weren’t one to disobey when she asked so nicely.

lifting your hips, wonyoung successfully got your shorts off of you and left them to fall at your ankles. “aww, you’re all ready for me.” wonyoung said smugly, staring at the wet spot on your underwear. add that to the list of things wonyoung finds so adorable about you; you can get riled up so easily, it’s sometimes unbelievable. and yet, you were never too needy and would rather wait for wonyoung to initiate something. she almost hated how patient you can really be, but hey, she was the one who asked for it!

“a-are you sure we should be doing this without closing the c-curtains—i mean, what if someone… some…” your words trail off, having been distracted with the way wonyoung gently presses her fingertips against your clothed clit and rubs very slow circles on it. and all of a sudden you didn’t care anymore. the mild shrubbery in front of the lodge was enough of a cover, you suppose.

“hm? what was that, unnie?”

“nothing.. noth—ah!” you squeak after wonyoung unexpectedly pressed hard on your clit, but cover your mouth immediately. but it’s not like anyone would hear, anyway. all of the other lodges are quite a distance away and you would have to be screaming for them to hear you and that, wonyoung feels, is quite timely because that was exactly what she wanted to do. as if it wasn’t obvious already, wonyoung has been a lot more head-over-heels for you than usual. she truly believes that she was falling in love with you all over again and the last time that happened, wonyoung had to run after you as you were leaving an event just to tell you about all about the feelings she has had for you. of course, that led to the wonderful relationship you have now… but just what else can wonyoung do this time?

“come here.” she pulls you in for a kiss. it was softer this time but it wasn’t any less passionate than the last. it almost felt like a reminder that even though her heart was on fire, wonyoung will still take care of you and you know what? that was basically the only reassurance that you needed to completely submit.

soon enough, your panties joined the pile of your clothes on the ground. wonyoung had started attacking your neck, her lips latching onto every inch of your skin and leaving lovely red marks in her wake. you’d tell her to be careful not to make them too red, or not to leave too much if it didn’t feel so good, if the way wonyoung’s fingers wasn’t so distracting with just how much she was teasing you. oh, to hell with it—you start grinding against her hand, paying no mind to how wonyoung couldn’t help but break into a smile while she worked her lips down to your chest. she wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you as close as you can be to her before catching one of your nipples in her mouth.

your hands dig through wonyoung’s beautiful hair while your moans fill the warm, empty air. it was getting harder and harder to pay attention to anything at this point. all you can hear was wonyoung’s soft moans and heavy breathing, and it reminded you of how much you would have loved to switch roles and please her yourself, but wonyoung was sweet enough to take charge and you need this. “mmn… mommy, open up for me… please?” the younger girl whispered against your skin. you lift one leg up, giving wonyoung all the access she wanted and more.

you leaned further back on the cushions of the couch as wonyoung inserted two fingers inside you. she was slow, careful. she always gave you chances to back out if you didn’t feel comfortable enough to do any of this with her. and once she knew that you truly wanted this, she allowed herself to relax and start her work. although, her steady pace didn’t last long—each second that passed, she only thrusted faster, wanting to hear you moan over and over again. she kept glancing up from your chest, looking at your expressions and smiling to herself while she alternated between sucking on your tits and leaving marks all over them. not having had enough of it all, you started rocking your hips towards the younger girl’s hand, desperately chasing after even more pleasure.

occasionally, wonyoung would wince at how hard you tugged at her hair. she knows you don’t do it on purpose and she does like it, plus it gives her reason to, say, ‘get back at you’ by biting your skin and making you wince. and it was when she bit on your collarbone that you moaned her name wonderfully. pride surges within wonyoung. more, she wanted, and faster she went. her fingers reached deeper than they ever have before and out of your mouth came sounds wonyoung was hearing for the first time, so she kept it up.

“tell me,” wonyoung says. you hear her, but you don’t respond. “am i doing goo—mmpf!” you silenced wonyoung by quickly pulling her hair and crashing your lips together. your free hand clutches on her shoulders for dear life, your nails digging into the skin exposed by her off-shoulder blouse.

“yes…! hmnn… you’re being so good, love…” you answered as your lips briefly parted hers. wonyoung, overwhelmed by adrenaline, moans at the praise. she was soaking wet herself; her core ached for attention and your praises, your lips, and your tightness wasn’t making anything easy for her. but oh, sweet and selfless wonyoung wouldn’t stop pleasing you just as you’re about to reach your climax just so she can get off instead. she hides her face on the crook of your neck, now stimulating your clit with her thumb and driving you into a frenzy.

“i love you so much, unnie… i’ll make it up to you properly later on but—hah… but for now,” wonyoung releases your waist from her hold and places her hand behind your other thigh before pushing your leg back. “cum for me.” she mutters right against your ear. a shiver runs down your spine before you succumb and the knot in your stomach breaks. wonyoung held you as you came, trying her very hardest not to cum with you because not only will that be embarrassing but also because surely you would tease her for cumming untouched!

wonyoung pulled her fingers out of you once you were calm again. you smile at her as you didn’t have the energy to speak just yet… nor did you have the energy to do anything else at all. while wonyoung was busy cleaning up her fingers (using her mouth, naturally), you just so happened to notice that she had her legs closed a bit too tightly, and her face was flushed way beyond normal. and then, you knew. your poor, darling angel needed you too!

you went on to move yourself back down on the mattress on the floor, then, you took a hold of wonyoung’s sleeve and pulled her down with you as you lay yourself down on your back. wonyoung was confused, albeit being totally into whatever you were planning. it was when you slid a leg in between her thighs and pressed it against her throbbing core that she knew. and oh, was she ready.

you tucked wonyoung’s hair behind her ear, and warmth blooms inside your chest when she smiles at you, “let’s make this night last, wonyoung-ah.” you mumbled as you placed a soft kiss on her nose.

“whatever you want, my love.”

well, turns out you really didn’t need that necklace, after all.

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mysticmoosenger · 4 months ago

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thinking about a gojo that is horrendously down bad for his new girlfriend and a horny mess

on your first ever movie date gojo couldn’t focus on the movie. honestly… he couldn’t focus on anything that wasn’t you. saying that he was obsessed with you would be an understatement. he had been waiting for a chance to take you out on a real date for years, ever since he first sat next to you in that dumb freshman year gen ed class.

once you found your seats gojo quickly realized that sitting through a 2 hour long movie just mere inches from each other was putting himself at risk for a heart attack. when he first accidentally brushed his hand against yours when reclining the seats he could have swore he got struck by lightening.

his problem only worsened when the lights dimmed and he was holding the shared popcorn for you both. you reached over, fully invested in the movie, not looking for where your hand was going. you had missed and brushed against his lower abs, barely noticing and just reaching back up to the bag. while you may not have noticed, gojo sure did.

it was getting difficult for him to conceal his massive hard on, just an hour in. he had just started to shift his focus towards a particularly drama filled scene when you had leaned over, “hey I’m really sorry I’m gonna run to the bathroom quick, let me know if I miss anything!!” you stood from your seat and shuffled through the small walkway in front of him. the addition of a great view of your ass at eye level worsened his situation even more.

while you were pretending to be a bit clueless, you had known at least some of what you were doing to torture the poor guy. you couldn’t help it, his big blue puppy dog eyes were too cute, and his blush was too enticing. the combination of him basically begging to fuck you and him having a massive crush on you was just too much fun.

dont worry though, after you made the first move in the parking lot he quickly had you riding him senseless in the backseat of his car. it really was worth the wait.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk oneshot #jjk smut #jjk gojo #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo smut #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #gojo oneshot #gojo imagine #jjk imagines

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chrollogy · 8 months ago

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A LOVER’S UNWRITTEN SCRIPT

— kuroo tetsurou x f!reader

syn: A-list actor, Kuroo Tetsurou—your ex lover—is still shamelessly in love with you. It doesn’t help how the intimate scenes you film together feels like a trip down to memory lane where you held each other’s hearts in the past. Despite Kuroo’s best efforts to keep the bubbling feelings at bay, he shamelessly bares the truth that lay inside his heart during a private rehearsal with you—in hopes to rekindle the once passionate relationship you two shared.

18+ MDNI; actor au, ex-lover!kuroo, implied breakup, mutual pining, exes to lovers, light angst, fluff, kuroo is horrendously down bad for reader (pathetically, even), explicit smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, pet names (baby, temptress, my love), not beta read.

word count: 4.8k

notes: weeeee just a lil gift for my dear friend @avatarofstars whom i promised to write a kuroo oneshot for hehe !! enjoy :> divider: cafekitsune.

mimi approved: “he [kuroo] folded like a wet napkin.”

The air was thick, and suffocating, as if it had its large hands wrapped around your neck, blunt fingertips digging into your flushed skin as each second passed, each thundering heartbeat that knocked against your chest. Caged in between familiar arms atop the soft mattress, your gaze was met with bare skin—a beautifully sun kissed chest—peeking beneath an ivory evening shirt with a few buttons sinfully undone.

Kuroo.

An icy shiver kissed along the length of his spine as your digit sensually traced the dips of his collarbones, and down, down, down to the valley of his chest until it's halted by a fastened button. Breath hitching at the eye contact, his hooded gaze clouded with nothing but pure carnal desire, pools of endless hazel reeling you into wicked temptation as his stare lingered on your own a little too long for your liking.

And as Kuroo slowly inched in, your heart skipped a beat or two, the musky scent of his cologne driving all five of your senses up the wall, his evening shirt bunched beneath your very palm.

Fluttering your eyes shut, the mattress shifted beneath the weight of his palms as the tip of his nose found your own, lightly rubbing it against each other—teasing the intimacy of your faces. God, what a tease.

Mere centimetres apart from your lips, the tension in the air steadily climbed to its peak as Kuroo’s hot breath interlaced with your own, locked in an endless dance before being whisked away as he seals your lips together in a passionate kiss.

Familiar. It was all too familiar—the movement of his lips, the heavy breath that planted butterfly kisses all over your face, the miniature sounds that slipped past his mouth, the plushness of it.

Vivid memories burned into your eyelids at the familiarity of the kiss, recounting the bittersweet past that you once shared with the ravenette—the sweet exchanges, the ‘i love you’s’, the countless nights spent tangled in each other’s bodies under the moonlit skies.

A low groan stirred from Kuroo’s chest as he eagerly pressed his face further, the back of your head flushed against the ivory pillow beneath as the soft smacks of your lips together filled the thick atmosphere of the room. It made him dizzy, his body eager for more, more, more as the cloud he rode ascended higher.

Before Kuroo could brazenly slip his hot tongue past your lips to take it up a notch, the director’s sharp voice sliced through the sultry atmosphere, bitterly reeling him back to reality—as if his whole body had been drenched in icy waters,

“Cut!”

It felt like your bodies were mere magnets attracted to one another because it took all of Kuroo’s sanity to hesitantly pull away from you—from your lips—giving ample distance between both your bodies, a daring contrast to a few seconds ago. Lips parted, and chest heaving to satiate his lungs with much needed oxygen, Kuroo took the time to ground himself; to remind himself that, in fact, this was all just an act. Nothing was real.

A breeze of coolness engulfed your skin at the lack of your co-star’s body warmth, a tinge of loneliness rooting itself as you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. Reality slowly settled in your skin, slowly becoming aware of the amount of crew, and equipment around—harsh lights flooded from the side, the view of the boom mic hovering above the bed, the camera that captured each scene.

Kuroo couldn’t hear a damn thing the director was saying over the harsh pounding of his heart, mind plagued with endless thoughts of you—it was always you. No one else.

Sure, this was all for the upcoming movie the both of you starred in but he couldn’t erase the fact that everything felt so normal, like it was meant to be. It pained his yearning heart that outside these calculated scenes, you were cold, and distant, carefully treading around him as if you were surrounded by a field of landmines—one wrong move, and everything burns to ashes.

At the end of the day, Kuroo couldn’t blame you, he was the one who initiated the break up in the first place. Five years ago, you were both aspiring actors under the same agency, auditioning for supporting roles left, and right to get your respective names out in the film industry—to get noticed by your unique talents. Somewhere down the line, Kuroo prioritised his career, leaving you to man the boat in the staggering relationship until one day, he finally saw fit to break it off.

A long time has passed since then, now, the two of you were illustrious actors that became household names through sheer talent, starring in countless award winning films. You, and Kuroo only saw each other through prestigious award shows, and buzzing premiere nights but nothing more than a few distant glances here, and there. And it was certainly both your first time to land a romantic leading role together.

The first time Kuroo properly saw you again was during table work for script analysis. Bare faced, clad in the simplest clothes, and a navy blue hat over your head—it had his heart shamelessly hammering away despite the awkward greeting you both exchanged. Safe to say, the ravenette had his hazel gaze locked on you the entire time, stuttering over his words the entire time while a deep crimson blush stained his sun kissed cheeks.

You were different—attractively different. The way you carried yourself in absolute confidence had him weak in the knees. It felt like he was young, and crushing all over again. A feeling Kuroo swore he’d never get tired of as long as it was for you.

Back in his trailer, the raven-haired male unceremoniously plopped himself atop the black leather couch, the fabric groaning beneath his weight. Resting an arm over his closed eyes, he let out a sigh into the empty trailer, silence engulfing his whole body.

It had been a long day of filming for 16 hours, albeit, only the second day, Kuroo still hasn’t gotten used to spending full days with you, he only had his personal trailer to collect his thoughts, and calm himself down from the raging feelings that bubbled in his chest. It was embarrassing, really, a grown man acting like a lovesick, hormonal teenager around his ex-lover.

He felt guilty on his end—you’ve been nothing but completely professional as any actor should be. You voiced your thoughts with the director during particularly challenging scenes, even going out of your way to discuss, and rehearse some lines with Kuroo before the initial shooting had started. Meanwhile on his end, he gawked at you like some starstruck fan, blindly agreeing to whatever you suggested, if it meant getting closer to you.

Funny thing was that Kuroo was forced to work twice as hard to ignore the blossoming feeling deep within the pit of his stomach; the feel of your clothed body beneath his palms, your plush lips, your gaze that never failed to make his breath hitch, it all drove him absolutely insane.

Removing the arm over his eyes, Kuroo’s phone loudly buzzed from the vanity table, the noise hastily reeling him back to reality. He let out a short sigh before standing up to check the device, legs heavy with exhaustion in each step. The device lit up in his hand, displaying a text message from you; that’s right, you’d asked for Kuroo’s number during the script analysis—he never really deleted yours but it was no use anyway, you had a new one.

‘Hey, Kuroo. Sorry for the late notice! I was just wondering if you wanted to briefly rehearse a few lines with me tonight before filming the scenes tomorrow?’

One thing he couldn’t get used to was you calling him by his surname—it was always Tetsurou or Tetsu from you. God, how he missed the way it rolled off your tongue like honey, saccharine, and smooth. Now, Kuroo just sounded so. . empty, and cold.

Nonetheless, he shook off the uncomfortable feeling rooted deep within his chest, rolling his broad shoulder’s back, muscles moving beneath his ivory evening shirt—it was a habit Kuroo had picked up whenever he felt slightly off.

He swiftly typed back a response, ‘Don’t worry, I don’t mind it at all! I’ll meet you in an hour?’

Seemed casual enough.

A second later, you replied, ‘Cool :) Meet at my suite in an hour.’ Kuroo’s heart pounded at the thought of spending the late hours of the night in your hotel suite. Sure, he had previously rehearsed lines with you but that was in one of the rooms in your talent agency which felt like he was on the clock. Practising scenes with you in your hotel suite however, it was a completely different story—it felt more intimate.

Given the far distance of shooting location, the production had booked separate suites for you, and Kuroo under the same hotel. It had its pros, and cons—pro: being able to see you first thing in the morning whenever you both headed to the shoot in the mornings; con: even with a wall between your suites, just thinking about how close you were drove Kuroo a little crazy.

Given the ample time to wash up, and prepare for the night ahead, Kuroo stood before the ivory double doors to your suite, script in one hand while the other lightly knocked. After a heartbeat, padded footsteps from the other side hastily made its way towards the doors, faint sounds of the lock becoming undone. A door swung open, revealing you in your relaxed late night attire,

“Come in. Thanks again for coming.”

It was exactly the same view that Kuroo had in his suite—boasting a vast, modern space for its esteemed guest, the suite exuded utmost sophistication, and luxury with its grandeur floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the bustling city beneath. Not trusting his voice, and giving you a nod, Kuroo stiffly headed for the champagne couch beneath the gleaming chandeliers.

You weren’t going to lie, seeing Kuroo standing before your door was something you kind of missed, the way his build almost completely obscured the view of the carpeted hallway outside—it wasn’t a foreign sight at all. You had to mentally slap your face for ogling the man, even for a brief second.

Though, no one could really blame you with the way Kuroo’s casual attire hugged his physique; clad in a white printed tee that you knew very well, paired with comfy, jet black sweats. The shirt he wore was his favourite, even back then, though, the only difference was that his torso filled it out much, much better now—the slight bulge of his muscled chest that left little to one’s imagination, and the sinful stretch of the ivory fabric circling his beefy biceps.

Oh, god.

Mentally cursing yourself, you followed suit after locking the doors behind, opting to sit on the champagne couch parallel to where Kuroo sat—his back was straight, and away from the backrest, sitting slightly on the edge of the couch. “Make yourself comfortable. Did you want anything? Hm, the complimentary dom pérignon is still unopened in the wine fridge. .”

Kuroo shook his head, “I’m fine.”

Mixing alcohol into this rehearsal sounded like a nightmare considering how much of a blabbermouth he became once liquid courage stained his bloodstream.

Nodding at his contentment, both of you spent the first few minutes sharing a few notes about the script from the table read, exchanging thoughts and ideas to grasp a deeper understanding of the scene at hand.

You had to physically refrain yourself from smiling at the way Kuroo stumbled over his words from time to time, his hands animatedly moving with each sentence that slipped past his lips. He was always so confident around everyone else but when it came to you, his mind just blanked. After all these years, he was still the same old Kuroo that you loved, and knew.

Something deep in your chest bubbled.

After a while, you were both on your feet, acting out the scene in the expansive living room which involved a bit of a heated argument back, and forth between the female lead, and the male lead.

Kuroo’s tall figure loomed over your own, pools of hazel staring down at you, full of hurt, and confusion, chest heaving from all the emotions that surged through every fibre of his body, “Do you—do you not love me anymore? To even throw baseless accusations at me while my heart yearns for you day, and night is unfair. If you don’t feel the same way for me anymore, tell me, my love,” Two steps closer, trembling hands coming up to cup your jaw, while his solemn gaze locked on to yours.

“Just. . just say the word, and I’ll let you be. Even if this is the very thing that breaks my beating heart.”

Closing your eyes for a brief moment, you inhaled a sharp breath, returning Kuroo’s solemn gaze, your hand sliding up to rest atop one of his own, “No—god, never. I love you so much it hurts. I love you with all my heart, and soul. . ‘M sorry I said stupid things. I just—”

“Shh, it’s okay, my love.” He whispers into the air, barely audible. Kuroo leans his forehead against yours, staying still for a brief moment, before pulling away, eyes shifting down to your lips—the next part had a passionate kissing scene between your character, and Kuroo’s character.

He waited for your approval with a bated breath, and with a slight dip of your chin, Kuroo didn’t hesitate to dive into your lips, letting out a content sigh as he sealed the distance.

The kiss was slow, and deep—it felt real, almost like it came from the depths of his heart. He took his time with your lips, moving ever so slowly to savour the saccharine taste, and angling his head to gain better access. The two of you stood there, in the middle of the spacious living room, lips locked in a sensual kiss, neither one dared to pull away as if waiting to hear the director’s voice say ‘Cut!’ to end the scene.

It never came.

And Kuroo gripped your face a little tighter, pressing himself further into you, savouring the plush of your lips before abruptly pulling away. You shamelessly chased his lips for more, looking up at your ex lover through hooded eyes. Something in the atmosphere shifted—maybe it was the way Kuroo looked down at you, his pink lips parted, and chest heaving or maybe it was the way his kiss felt too real. It was different from the kisses he gave in front of the camera.

You couldn’t quite pinpoint it but Kuroo’s kiss weighed with history behind it.

“I love you. God, I still do. So fucking much.” Kuroo breathed out, voice shaky. He couldn’t hear his own words properly over the hammering of his heart. Fuck, he felt his head spinning.

That wasn’t in the script. Was he improvising?

You froze beneath Kuroo’s searing touch upon hearing the sudden confession, meeting his solemn hazel eyes. If he was being honest, he didn’t know why he had the sudden urge to just let you know what lay inside his heart, all Kuroo knew was he was still shamelessly in love with you—none could change that fact.

“Kuroo . . ?” A deep crease between your brows formed as you furrowed them, trying to find an answer beyond pools of amber. He gave a mournful smile, “I’m sorry, I was such an idiot back then. I-I know it’s stupid to ask you to come back to me but . . you’re the only one I truly want.”

The man before you sheepishly looked down at his feet as you stared at him in disbelief, like you’ve seen some kind of ghost. Your head spun—it was too much to process, you didn’t know whether to be happy because you felt the same way or angry since Kuroo had the audacity to confess that easily after leaving you in the air for so long.

Fuck it.

At your deafening silence, the hands that cupped your face loosened, Kuroo’s body slowly reeling back but before he could put ample distance between, you grabbed him by the collar of his ivory shirt, and eagerly sealed your lips together, earning a surprised gasp from the taller male.

Melting into each other’s hold, Kuroo cut the sweet kiss short, opting to pepper hot, open mouthed kisses along the column of your neck, nose grazing against your sensitive skin to breathe in your intoxicating scent,

“Mhm—! Tetsu. .”

The sudden use of his nickname earned a sharp bite at the junction of your neck, pulling out a dulcet moan from you. Kuroo’s head spun at your dizzying sounds—god, he missed the way his name effortlessly rolled off your sinful tongue. The slumbering beast between his legs stirred as you continued to call out his name into the air like a prayer.

It wasn’t long before the two of you stumbled onto the soft bed while locked in a messy, passionate kiss, trails of discarded articles of clothing along the wooden floors of the suite, just like a pair of lovers who had been long deprived of each other’s blazing touch—it awakened yours, and Kuroo’s dormant, yearning hearts, and nothing was bound to stop it now.

It had been far too long silently orbiting around one another like two celestial bodies intertwined in an endless dance, gravity never straying you both too far from each other but also neither bringing you closer. Tonight, however, it seemed like the universe had granted you, and Kuroo a potent gravitational force—two celestial beings bound for a planetary collision.

It was scandalous—something keen-eyed tabloids would go crazy over—all teeth, and tongue paired with a series of whispered names into the night air. Professionalism was long thrown out the window.

Oh, you could already imagine the amount of bizarre headlines with your names plastered all over the media if one were to see a glimpse behind the doors of your hotel suite.

Just like the scene shot earlier today, Kuroo caged your naked body with his arms, every dip, and curve of his muscles contoured beneath warm hues of the lights above. He slowly kissed his way down the valley of your breasts—teasingly poking his sinful tongue to lap in between them—down to your stomach until reaching the very place where you needed him the most.

“Just like I remembered—beautiful as ever.” Kuroo breathed out, in awe of your raw beauty laid out in front of him to absolutely devour, hazel eyes filled with genuine admiration. His breath fanned over your hot sex, pulling your thighs apart to reveal your glistening cunt.

He didn’t hesitate to dive in, groaning into your soft skin as his tongue eagerly explored your sensitive core. With his eyes closed, forehead creased in absolute concentration, and fingers digging into the plush of your thighs, Kuroo pressed his face further, relishing the familiar flavour that graced his taste buds—you. Your hands were quick to fly down to his unruly raven strands, tugging at it as he lapped your insides like there was no tomorrow.

Whimpers of his name lingered on the damp air, going straight to his cock that hardened with each moan of his name.

Sinful, lewd sounds of Kuroo’s tongue against your velvety walls, mixed with your moans reverberated throughout the expansive suite. He pulled a long, airy whimper from your lips as he nudged the tip of his nose against your sensitive clit, sucking profusely on your sopping cunt.

God, he felt right at home.

The feeling Kuroo had been chasing for the past five years finally came to him on a silver platter, and he wasn’t about to let it go again.

A bubbling feeling in the depths of your core slowly made itself known, rapidly rising up, up, up near the surface where it was bound to release but before that could happen, you mustered all your strength amidst the lustful daze to form a coherent sentence,

“T-Tetsu—wait! Mhm! Hold on. .” You audibly gasped, prying him away from your sensitive cunt. A smack of Kuroo’s lips lingered in the air as he pulled away, hooded gaze staring up at you with concern laced in his eyes, “Something wrong? Did I hurt you?” He panted, hot breath ghosting over the apex of your legs; you watched as his eyes frantically scanned your face, looking for any signs of discomfort.

Shaking your head, Kuroo softly melted onto the ivory sheets below with ease, waiting for you to voice your thoughts; keen hazel eyes watched as you bit your bottom lip, a tinge of hesitancy clouding your blissful expression, “I want to cum around you.”

There was a heartbeat, a brief moment as your words registered in Kuroo’s head—his lips, glistening with your essence, slowly parted, the crimson blush across his cheeks deepening as he fully grasped your sentence. Millions of emotions surged through every fibre of his being, ranging from A to Z. He deemed himself the luckiest man alive, just the thought of feeling your hot, velvety walls around his cock made his head spin with lust.

”You little temptress.” He breathlessly chuckled, it was anything but innocent.

Kuroo eagerly situated himself to your left, propping his body sideways to face you. As if communicating through telepathy, you mirrored his action, bare back flush against his naked chest—it was second nature at this point, having done this countless times in the past; safe to say it was yours, and Kuroo’s favourite position.

Hooking your left hand under your thigh, you propped it up onto the air, a dainty moan escaping your swollen lips as Kuroo teasingly brushed the tip of his hard cock. It made you a little nervous with the knowledge of how thick he was—sure, you’ve taken him inside you before but five years was a long time ago. As if he could sense your nerves, Kuroo placed a trail of chaste kisses from your neck down to your shoulder, whispering sweet nothings into your skin.

With a bated breath, he slowly inched in bit by bit, earning a series of colourful profanities slipping past your lips. God, Kuroo was fucking thick. “Mhm . . Y-you feel so good.” He whined, pressing his forehead against your shoulder as he bottomed out, relishing in the way your eager walls sucked him in without an ounce of hesitancy, almost like they were welcoming him back.

Both of you stayed still for a moment, sounds of heavy breathing filling the warm air of the night, basking in the rawness of each other’s body, the intimacy of the whole thing—the way Kuroo felt inside you, and the way you felt around him. “I missed you so much, Tetsu . .” That was the last coherent sentence you confessed before he slowly drew his hips back until the head remained, and sensually thrusting back in.

Kuroo wanted to take his time, giving you deep, slow thrusts to feel every inch of him, and fuck, you absolutely did. The way the head of his cock kissed your sweet, sweet spot had your eyes rolling back, and hand gripping on the ivory sheets below; it didn’t help how Kuroo directly moaned into your ear, hearing every incoherent mumble that slipped past his lips.

His fingers dug into the plush of your hips, angling his own to gain better access. Soft, lewd squelches of your bodies meeting filled your ears as Kuroo’s pace picked up a bit, the bubbling feeling once again resurfacing as each hammering heartbeat pounded on your chest.

Fuck, it’s been so, so long since you’ve had him—the way your body reacted under his touch were enough proof of how deprived you were of this man.

Tears pooled around your eyes at the depth of his sheathed cock, hitting places inside you that you’ve never discovered. A series of dulcet moans rumbled from your chest, and onto the high ceiling above, forehead pressed against the soft mattress beneath as pleasure engulfed your whole body. Tired, burning muscles on your left thigh was nothing compared to the ecstasy that gnawed at every fibre of your being.

But before you could reach the peak, Kuroo slowed down, earning a loud whine from you. Looking over your shoulder, you met his lustful gaze, lashes, and eyes glazed from tears of bliss,

“W-wha—Why’d you stop, Tetsu . . ?” “I’m sorry but I really want to see you, my love.”

Next thing you knew, Kuroo had flipped your bodies—he remained on the bed while you straddled him, legs on either side of his waist. Impatience brewing in your chest, you wordlessly grabbed his hefty cock, and slipped it inside, earning a unison of deep moans from both of you.

An icy shudder licked up Kuroo’s spine as your nails scraped his bare chest. “Tetsu.” You whined, slowly moving your hips up, and down, up, and down. Raven strands stuck to his sweaty forehead, beads of sweat rolling down his flushed skin; he stared up at your fucked out expression, biting on his bottom lip at the sight before him; oh, how he missed this view.

It didn’t take long for you to become a whimpering mess as Kuroo thrusted upwards, meeting your hips as you came down. This earned a loud moan of his name, curling over your own body, and planting your forehead flush against his sweaty chest.

He let out a humourless chuckle, “Tired, baby?”

Before you could muster a response, Kuroo shifted beneath your limp body, hands coming up to rest on your hips, and planting the soles of his feet firmly on the mattress before mercilessly pistoning his hips into yours.

You eyes swiftly opened at the intense pleasure that ate away at your body—fuck, you didn’t even know they were closed—moaning loudly against Kuroo’s skin like there was no tomorrow. The room was filled with the heavy scent of sex, sounds of shameless skin slapping echoing throughout the walls of your suite; if one were to walk along the hallway, they’d know exactly what was happening beyond the ivory doors.

Unable to move your hips due to Kuroo’s deathly grip, you lay limp on top of his naked body, taking all of him, and the relentless pounding, your bare figure jerking with every sinful thrust. Looking up at him with teary eyes, you rested a trembling hand on his cheek, basking in his handsome beauty—his face concentrated in pure bliss.

“A-ah—! Tetsu. . ‘M coming!”

All it took for Kuroo to cum with you was your blissful expression, and the broken whine of his name. Sheathing his hard cock deep inside your cunt until his hips were flush against yours, he let out a shameless moan of your name, head pressing into the pillows beneath as icy shivers ran up his spine. Your body stiffened with pleasure, clenching around Kuroo’s cock as you reached your orgasm; a small whine left your lips at the feeling of his hot cum painting your walls white.

You lay limp atop his body, sweaty, muscles burning with exhaustion, and blissfully on cloud nine. Staying still for a brief moment, heavy breaths filled the air as the situation settled onto your bones. With your eyes still locked on Kuroo, your thumb gently caressed his cheek, earning his hazel gaze in return.

“I thought you were improvising earlier.” You let out a tired laugh, trying to lighten the mood now that lust was slowly wearing off your mind.

He looked down at you for a brief second before fixing his gaze onto the ceiling above, a solemn smile gracing his lips, “I meant every word I said back there, you know? I . . I still do love you. Like I mentioned earlier, it's stupid but I want to at least try again. I’d be more than a fool to let you go.”

Kuroo looked down at you once again as you placed a chaste kiss on the tip of his chin—something he had grown fond of—gaze melting as you met his eyes once again; he gave you a smile, one that reached his eyes.

“I’d be the more stupid one if I refused. I missed you a lot, Tetsu.”

The next morning, the shoot started off without a hitch. Surprisingly—as observed by the crew—there wasn’t a sense of awkwardness between you, and Kuroo in comparison to the first two days of filming where many had noticed that you, and your co-star didn’t have much chemistry off-camera to begin with.

No one dared to point it out but many have noticed the lingering touches here, and there, the prolonged eye contact, and the stolen glances. One member of the crew even swore to have seen you sneak over to Kuroo’s personal trailer at the end of the shoot with a lovesick smile written all over your face.

Safe to say that these subtle actions carried onto premiere night, and press tours for the film which may or may not have had eagle-eyed fans, and tabloids speculating about a budding relationship between you, and Kuroo, especially when asked during promotional interviews.

Though, you’d both usually just laugh it off with a shrug. It was best to keep it personal—like an unwritten script.

—

affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum !

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omega-e123 · 6 months ago

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Warning: Suggestive (nsfw)

Based by: “I wanna be your slave” by Måneskin

I love you since this morning, not just for aesthetic. I wanna touch your body, so fucking electric. I know you're scared of me, you say that I'm too eccentric I'm crying all my tears and that's fucking pathetic

Every time you and Shadow get heated up, he backs off. It never gets past a make out session. Once it feels like he’s gone too far, he pulls apart and apologizes. Opting to distract himself from you.

You thought that maybe there was something wrong with you. That’s not right. The theory was easily written off seeing as Shadow has chosen to stay with you all this time. He’s blunt. Most of the time, you don’t need to ask what’s wrong because he’ll straight up tell you. It’s what you love about him. No need to walk on eggshells or play the guessing game.

So why… is it when it comes to this, he’s dodging the situation like he’s in the matrix?

It came up again. You two were on the couch, supposed to be watching a show. One thing led to another and now here you are, straddling his lap. Bare hands graze along your spine. Lips connected in an intimate tango.

He wants to pull you closer. Tighter. Shadow needs to feel more of you. An animalistic growl escapes him. Your touch is a drug he’s horrendously addicted to. You are his lifeline. Separated, he’s nothing. Yet..

Shadows fingers twitch, feeling the need to claw up your back. To mark you so everyone knows you’re his. Fuck, he wants to sink his nails and fangs into you so bad.

Abruptly he stops. Eyes snap open and his hands rest on either of your shoulders, pushing you away. Breathing synchronized, panting, slowing down into a steady rhythm.

Your dumbfounded expression twists into a worried face. It’s your chance to ask what’s wrong. This time you will get an answer. Shadow is not allowed to leave until he spills.

His gaze goes everywhere but you. He can’t bear to look at you. It’s almost as if he’s.. ashamed? No. Under careful observation, the look on his face appears more afraid.

Once confident hands now tremble. Shadow’s head hanging low as his forehead rests on your chest.

Quiet as a mouse, he whispers, “I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Clarify. Please. Those words sound awful all on their own. There are a million different things that sentence could mean.

'Cause I'm the devil who's searching for redemption. And I'm a lawyer who's searching for redemption. And I'm a killer who's searching for redemption. A motherfucking monster who's searching for redemption

“I don’t know what I’d do with myself if I hurt you. Physically,” Shadow adds, finally making eye contact. A stray tear or two has found its way down his cheek.

“Trust me, I do want you..” Fangs sink into his bottom lip, drawing blood. He sighs, admitting, “I’ve never— done.. with anyone.”

You couldn’t find it in yourself to chuckle. Not when he’s in this state. Cupping his face, you wipe the tears with your thumbs, giving Shadow a reassuring smile. There's no need to rush things. Take it slow, take it easy. You're perfectly content with waiting however long. Silence follows after pecking his forehead.

Chaos, he doesn’t deserve you. Every fiber of his body screams at him, ‘he doesn’t.’ After all he’s done in the past, what he’s been through. Shadow is so lucky to have you. It’s a wonder how you could love a ‘monster’..

That’s not who or what he is. Not to you.

Shadow the hedgehog.

The ultimate life form.

For you he’s… your partner. Your lover.

A friend. A rock.

The one who has been by your side no matter what.

To him, you are a beacon of light. One he should protect. Another reason for him to keep existing. He’d follow you to the ends of the earth.. Like a.. Well a shadow, of course.

I wanna be your sex toy, I wanna be your teacher

I wanna be your slave, I wanna be your master. I wanna make your heartbeat run like rollercoasters

“Teach me,” Shadow speaks up.

Tilting his head, he leans in towards so that it rests on your shoulder, breath hitting your neck. The urge to bite and suck on your neck is overwhelming.

Shadow tentatively licks your throat before placing a kiss.

“Teach me how to make you feel good.”

#shadow the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog x reader #shadow x reader #sth #again not proof read #fuck it we ball #I started with a plan and then it got out of hand #hope you enjoy whatever this is #going to sleep now and dream about him🩷#if the formatting is weird on desktop I’m sorry #wrote all of this on my phone

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sailorsoons · 17 days ago

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Blood & Popcorn (l.c)

PAIRING: Lee Chan x f. Reader

SUMMARY: Fridays are reserved for watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer and stuffing your face with popcorn and pizza. It’s been like that for you and Chan since your freshman year of college. But when he skips your Blood and Popcorn night for a date, things take an unexpected turn.

WC: 11,315

AU: Friends to Lovers, Angst, Fluff

GENRE: Smut

RATING: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

WARNINGS: Literally so much misunderstanding and repressed feelings, pining, light themes of jealousy, recreational drinking, recreational weed use, bad communication skills, some mild insecurities, explicit language, explicit sexual content including unprotected vaginal sex (do not do this lmaooo), nipple stim, light teasing, oral (f. receiving), clumsy/playful sex, jokes/banter while fucking. They’re both down horrendous. Joshua as an almost love interest. Jeonghan is both terrible and great at advice.Alternating POVs and some time skips.

A/N: This was originally posted on my old blog, and is being reposted to celebrate Valentine's Day! Enjoy Chan and Bambi the way god intended.

A/N 2: Thank you to @daechwitatamic who beta read this and who this was dedicated to!

MASTERLIST | PERMANENT TAG LIST | ASK | READ NEXT

“So why not Blood and Pizza if pizza is always involved but popcorn isn’t?” Mingyu eyes the french fries on your plate. You give him a warning glance, pointing the sharp tines of your fork at him. He retreats, leaning against the cracked vinyl of the booth, pouting. “Also, the title sounds gross.”

“Good thing it has nothing to do with you then.”

“Wow, you’re not even going to invite me?”

“No,” you chirp, popping a shoestring fry into your mouth. You savor the saltiness, humming delightedly. “It’s for me and Chan. Not me, Chan and you. Plus, you know nothing about Buffy.”

“Isn’t that a magic dragon? And are you sure you two aren’t dating?”

The look you send Mingyu makes him hold up his hands in surrender. It isn’t the first time someone has asked if you and Chan are dating, and you know it won’t be the last. You don’t want to start down that avenue tonight, trying to navigate the questions of why and well you seem to be a good match.

If romantic relationships were started over simply having things in common and matching a vibe, you and Chan would have started dating a long time ago. But you’re not, and you’ve already gotten over the fact that you’re not dating and that you will not start dating.

Mostly.

The bell rings above the diner door, drawing your attention. Like he’s been manifested by Mingyu’s dangerous question, Chan spots you and lifts a hand, a smile splitting his face as he heads over. You scoot over in the booth, dragging your plate along with you to make room for him.

Chan is dressed in jeans and a green sweater, your favorite color on him. He sits down next to you, cushioned seat dipping a little as he leans over to kiss the top of your head and steal fries off of your plate. You let him, feeling heat flush up the side of your neck as you look anywhere but Mingyu’s accusatory stare.

“These are so good,” Chan says around a mouthful of fries. “Thanks, Bambi.”

You grin at the nickname, trying not to flush too hard.

“I wouldn’t know,” Mingyu says pointedly. You ignore him, shoving your burger in your mouth. “Apparently I’m not allowed fries or to attend your movie night.”

“Order your own fries,” Chan says.

“Ugh. I already ate mine.”

“So order more, idiot. And of course you’re not invited to Blood and Popcorn. That’s our thing.”

Our thing.

The corner of your mouth twitches as you glance at Chan. He doesn’t notice, catching the eyes of the server and waving happily, giving her a broad smile. She gives him a thumbs up in return, confirming she’ll put in his usual now that he’s there.

There are a lot of things that belong to you and Chan. Studying at the very diner you were sitting in during freshman year had been one of them, though now in your final year there’s not as much of a need to study and you’ve incorporated other friends in your late night trips for grease and calories.

You also shared trivia nights on Tuesdays with Vernon and Seungkwan, football Sundays with Seungcheol, Mingyu and Jeonghan, once a month family dinners with everyone, and most importantly, Blood and Popcorn.

Chan steals another fry off of your plate and you let him, leaning back in the booth. Mingyu glares daggers at you, dark eyes flicking from your plate, to you, to Chan. You grin around a mouthful of cheeseburger and he scoffs before looking away.

Behind you, Chan’s arm stretches across the back of the booth, just barely brushing against the top of your shoulders. Your stomach flips a little, momentarily elated at the contact before you swallow it down with Sprite, pretending it wasn’t there in the first place.

The two boys immediately fall into a conversation about their shared engineering class. You tune it out easily, a learned habit over the last four years of having to listen to Chan tell you the functions of a bridge and the best way to design one. Instead, you focus on the rise and fall of Chan’s soft voice and the way it lulls you into a state of calm.

When the server brings over his order, he pulls his arm from over the back of the seat. Immediately you snatch one of the onion rings from his basket, popping one into your mouth and hissing as the crispy snack burns you. He shakes his head, laughing as he gives you a napkin while you sputter.

“Careful, Bambi,” he murmurs. “They’re literally steaming.”

Mingyu reaches for an onion ring, only to be threatened with the blunt end of Chan’s steak knife. “Don’t even think about it.”

“But she-”

“Bambi has special privileges,” Chan quips. “Order yourself some more fries for the love of God. I’ll pay for them.”

Mingyu immediately stops whining, mood improving markedly as he orders fries, wiggling in his seat happily. Chan cuts his burger in half, asking, “Why were you talking about Blood and Popcorn anyway?”

“Shua asked Bambi out on a date,” Mingyu answers around a mouthful of fries. “She told him she couldn’t go because of Blood and Popcorn.”

Chan stops eating and looks at you, brows creasing. You feel your heart rate speed up as you kick Mingyu under the table. He yelps, knee jerking upward to slam against the underside of the table. The salt and pepper shakers rattle in place as Mingyu bends over to rub his shin.

“He didn’t ask me out on a date.”

“He asked you to dinner!”

“As friends!”

“Oh yeah,” Mingyu snorts, rolling his eyes. “Friends take friends to fucking prime steakhouses. He asked you out on a date.”

For a moment, silence envelops the table. You stare at your fries, watching Chan out of your periphery. He looks away from you, wiping the grease from his fingers onto the napkin. The air feels pregnant with tension suddenly, your anxiety bubbling as you open your mouth to assert once more it wasn’t a date.

Chan beats you to breaking the silence, “We can skip this Friday so you can go!”

You open and close your mouth a few times, heart dropping to your ass. “What?”

“It’s totally fine if we have to skip. I don’t mind.”

Chan picks his burger back up, not looking at you. Heart pounding in your chest, you can’t help but watch him in total silence, trying to string together a response. Sure, maybe Chan doesn’t mind if you miss your weekly solo hangout. But you care.

The ache of the implication cuts you suddenly, a delayed reaction. You feel your throat tighten painfully, reaching for your Sprite to try and swallow past the sudden tension. It does nothing to quell the way the casual dismissal of your tradition keeps cutting you long after he’s said the words, sawing down to the bone.

“I wasn’t aware that we could just skip Blood and Popcorn, I guess.”

“I mean if you’ve got a date.”

That’s not the point, you want to scream at him.

Chan is a lot of things. Perceptive isn’t one of them. If he had been, you know he would have sniffed out your feelings for him a long time ago. Luckily for you, he’s remained completely oblivious over the last four years of your friendship, and you like to keep it that way. Keep it safe.

Nothing ruins a friendship more than unrequited romance. You know that from more than just the media you consume - you’ve seen more than once first hand when one friend catches feelings for the others but the desire isn’t mutual.

It isn’t mutual here. It’s always been very clear where Chan’s interests lie, and you’re totally fine with that. You accept the relationship that you have happily and quietly, and thought moments like are a brutal reminder of where you stand, it’s alright because you also love your friendship. More than you love him - at least, you think so.

So when Chan so easily suggests to go on a date, to cancel your thing with him to accommodate, you know it isn’t because he doesn’t care. He just thinks that you should go on a date because it doesn’t occur to him that the real reason you don’t want to is because your interests are somewhere else. That you don’t want to cancel Blood and Popcorn because it’s for the two of you and no one else.

“Yeah,” you rasp, unsure what else to say. “Um, maybe.”

“Shua is a good guy.”

“Yeah. Yeah he is.”

Mingyu and Chan go back to their conversation about class. You finish your meal in silence, leaning back against the seat as your thoughts wander listlessly. You gaze around the diner, drinking in detail as their conversation becomes background noise and you can no longer understand what they’re saying.

Rounders Diner had been a staple in the college community long before you were born, and continues to be the center for academic life. Students fill the booths sipping on milkshakes as they cram for exams or homework, night shift workers sit at the countertop and order coffee before heading to work, and the jukebox in the corner glows neon, only offering a selection of music from the 50s.

Behind the countertop is an open scratch kitchen, the sound of sizzling grease and yelled orders bracketing an Elvis song you know the words to but don’t know the name of. Black and white tile flooring with years worth of scuffs reflect the canned lighting in the ceiling. Over near the entrance is a wall covered in pictures of students of note throughout the years.

You remember the first time Chan had hauled you to Rounders. It was the first day you’d met, two freshmen absolutely terrified of the world after experiencing two back to back intro courses together. The dining hall was on the opposite side of campus from your classes, but Chan had insisted there was a diner just off the corner that everyone said was a necessary experience.

He was the first real friend you made. Your roommates had become your best friends too, Lorna and Mai splashed across almost every memory you have of college. But that first day is only colored with Chan, who had slid into the seat across from you and looked around the diner with a bright grin like he was suddenly at home.

Wanna start coming here after class?

You did. And you had.

A hand waves in front of your face, making you blink several times before Chan’s face swims into focus. Your thoughts are a little delayed as you drink him in: dark hair framing dark, angular eyes that turn molten brown when the sun hits them just right, a jawline that has turned sharper as he’s aged, though his cheeks still have a youthful softness that you adore, and a grin that makes the world dim.

“What?” you ask him, totally at a loss for words.

He laughs and you feel the corners of your lips turn upward, an automatic response to his mirth. “I asked if you were ready to go.”

You look up to see Mingyu at the register, passing over the bill and a card. “I think I spaced out. I thought you were buying him fries?”

He snorts. “Never fear, it’s my card. Everything okay?”

You hesitate. Not for the first time, the urge to spill your guts to him grips you so forcefully that you almost do right in the middle of Rounders. Almost tell him everything from start to finish, the feelings, the reason you don’t want to date Joshua, how beautiful you think Chan is-

Mingyu starts heading back and you force a grin on your face, bumping his shoulder with yours. “Of course. A little tired, though. Thanks for dinner.”

“You know I’ve got you.” He gets up from the booth and holds his hand out to you. “Always.”

Chan is the stupidest fucking person he knows. He lets out a loud scream into the warmth of his pillow, squeezing his eyes shut as he lays face down in his bed. His arms are shoved under the pillow, fisting in his sheets as the long-winded scream finally begins to die out.

“Yes, that is healthy,” Seungkwan calls from Chan’s desk against the window. “Let the pillow know everything that you’re feeling.”

Scowling, Chan lifts his head up and looks over his shoulder at where Seungkwan is sitting. His roommate is hunched over Chan’s laptop, a document open on the screen as he clicks around rapidly, cursing under his breath.

“Why are you in here again?”

“My literature professor is a dinosaur,” Seungkwan answers. “And only accepts printed essay submissions.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“No, I mean you don’t have your own printer?”

“No, and I will not be paying thirty cents a paper for an essay that is almost thirty pages long.”

“That’s like, nine dollars dude. Also, why is your essay thirty pages long?”

“Ask the dude who wrote Beowulf.”

“Isn’t that like… a movie?”

Seungkwan mutters something under his breath. The printer chimes, followed by a mechanic whirring as the paper feeds into the machine and starts printing. Spinning in the chair, Seungkwan looks at where Chan is still laying stomach down, face squished against his pillow as he cradles it.

“Speaking of movies - are you having Blood and Popcorn here or at Bambi’s?”

Chan can’t help but smirk at the nickname. It had stuck ever since your freshman year when you’d called Rin Hartford a bambi-eyed bitch for saying nasty things to Mingyu. He thinks that night might be the night he realized he was absolutely head over heels for you, even if he had only known you for two weeks then.

Despite your quiet disposition, you’ve always been the epitome of bravery. He can’t recall a time that you haven’t said what you meant or meant what you said, and defending your friends and speaking up has always been paramount to you.

For someone like Chan who was often the youngest and the softest spoken in any group he was in, you were a breath of fresh air. And you’ve taught him to speak up for himself, letting him grow comfortable pushing back with people - especially his friends - and how to give back what he gets.

Corrupted, Seungcheol joked once. She corrupted him and taught him how to bully us back.

“I’m not really sure,” Chan says slowly, thinking about your conversation at the diner, the exact source of his pillow-scream. “We might not be doing it.”

“Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise?”

“There is no paradise. We’re just friends.”

“That’s the trouble I’m talking about, brother.” Seungkwan turns around to start collecting the pages out of the printer. “Is the Blood and Popcorn cancellation the reason for your pillow screaming?”

“I don’t know that it’s canceled.”

“That really clarifies the issue.”

Chan scowls. “Did you know Shua was into her?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“He asked her on a date.”

“Joshua must have got tired of waiting for you to make a move on Bambi. I guess he decided you weren’t going to.”

Chan frowns and sits up. He didn’t realize Joshua remotely had a thing for you, and while Chan adores the older member of their larger friend group, the thought of him taking you to dinner - a date - makes his stomach tighten.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Seungkwan clarifies. “That you have had the last four years to nut up or shut up. Everyone has waited for you to make your move on Bambi and you haven’t. If you’re not going to do it, someone else might as well.”

“I mean, anyone could ask her out. It’s not like I have-”

“Don’t you dare say you didn’t have dibs. Dibs can be unspoken, Chan. You’ve been in love with that girl since freshman year, if you think people - especially our friends - cannot tell and don’t respect you enough to give you time to ask her out, you need to wake up.”

“It’s that obvious?”

“Not to her, clearly.” Seungkwan stands and grins at Chan placidly, his essay collected in his hands. “Fortunately for you, the only person who is as dumb as you are is Bambi. Match made in heaven, really.”

Chan chews his bottom lip. That offers a little bit of relief. He doesn’t like knowing that his feelings are so obvious to everyone else, but at least you don’t know. He cannot imagine how uncomfortable it would make your friendship dynamic knowing he was mooning over you while you just saw him as a friend.

“Well, she doesn’t feel that way about me. I’m not going to confess my unrequited feelings and put her in that position to deal with them. It wouldn’t be fair.”

Seungkwan gives Chan a slow blink, smile turning plastic. “Like I said. Match made in heaven.”

Heaving a sigh, Chan throws himself on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Chan was certainly an idiot for a lot of reasons, but the biggest reason has to be the way he has let his feelings for you fester since freshman year. Instead of implementing preventative maintenance, he’s let the problem grow to the point that his friends are no longer waiting for him to do something about it.

The window of opportunity is gone.

Not that there was a window of opportunity to begin with. Chan has seen what it looks like when you’re interested in guys - dazed eyes, a little flustered, a tiny grin on your face. You’ve never looked at him that way. At least, not really like that. You smile at him all the time, but it’s different.

If he had the slightest indication you looked at him like you were interested, he’d have spilled his feelings a long time ago. Hiding this from you feels almost like a violation of friendship, but in order to preserve the friendship and keep you comfortable, he does what he must.

The memory of him telling you to go on a date with Joshua makes him groan in embarrassment. He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, seeing stars explode behind his lids. It had been a knee jerk response, something to distract you from the immediate jealousy and panic he’d felt that moment that Mingyu had dropped that bit of information at the table.

Mingyu. That motherfucker did it on purpose - not to rile Chan, but to try and give him a kick in the ass toward the right direction. But like everyone else, Mingyu doesn’t get it. If Chan told you how he felt just to get it off of his chest, it would be putting his burden on you. You’d be the one who had to feel guilty for it being unrequited, you’d be the one who would inevitably feel uncomfortable or out of place.

No. It would be the highest form of selfishness he can think of, offloading the heavy weight of his feelings just to give them to you as a reprieve from carrying them around so long.

Chan blinks away the swimming colors, staring up at the popcorn ceiling of his bedroom again. He can hear Seungkwan singing somewhere in the apartment, liquid voice calming even in Chan’s mild state of distress.

Joshua is a good guy. Honestly, there are only a few guys that Chan knows who would make a suitable partner for you, and he begrudgingly acknowledges that Joshua is at the top of that list. And yet he still feels a twist of self-loathing that he had pushed you so quickly towards it, the regret like bile in his stomach.

The last thing Chan wants to do is skip Blood and Popcorn this week. It is the one guaranteed day of uninterrupted time with you, and he waved it away like it meant nothing to him, which could not be farther from the truth. The nights of watching Buffy and eating pizza and sometimes popcorn mean everything to him.

He just wishes he had been brave enough to stand his ground.

Maybe Joshua Hong is the worst person ever. Chan dismisses the irrational thought as soon as he has it. Joshua isn’t awful at all. It’s just that he’s leaning in toward you and saying something into your ear over the loud din of the party, and Chan watches the way you nod.

Crack. The plastic cup in his hand splits and immediately spills rum and coke all over the kitchen floor. Jeonghan starts yelling at him, ripping paper towels off of the roll and throwing them in Chan’s direction. He mutters an apology, gaze drifting over the kitchen counter to the living room where you’re laughing, head tilted back, warm light splaying across your throat-

“Ya! Don’t just let it pool at your feet!”

Jeonghan’s screech brings Chan back to life. He snatches the copious amounts of paper towels Jeonghan has thrown at him and starts to soak up the drink. The tile floor is already sticky and Chan cringes. No way have either Jeonghang or Seungcheol cleaned this floor any time recently. If anything, Chan has done it a favor.

The party is in full swing around him. He stands up with the soaked paper in his hand, tossing it into the trash and grabbing more while Jeonghan digs underneath the counter. Chan finishes soaking up the spilled drink and comes eye to eye with a new set of paper towels and spray cleaner.

Chan gives Jeonghan the soaked papers. “Jeonghan, your floor is already disgusting.”

“Then you should have no problem cleaning it!”

“Sure, Mom.”

“Don’t call me that!”

He rolls his eyes but does what Jeonghan says, spraying the area quickly and pressing down the paper towels. They come away sticky and black, making him cringe in disgust before tossing them out and washing his hands. As he turns off the faucet, Jeonghan has the decency to hand him a new drink.

Chan takes it without comment, the image of Joshua leaning into you a little too much for him to deal with right now. He drains the cup, sputtering a little. Jeonghan is a heavy pour and the spiced rum goes down rough, his eyes tearing just a little as he finishes the drink.

“Well, that’s one way to stop from spilling.” Chan shoots Jeonghan a look before reaching for the mixer and handle of rum again. “You do normally drink like a fish, but anything in particular driving tonight’s thirst?”

“Nope.”

“Right, so it’s not tall, dark and handsome hanging out with Bambi?”

Chan feels his eye twitch as he heavily pours the liquor into his cup. “Nope. And Joshua isn’t even that tall.”

“Taller than you.” Chan shoots Jeonghan a venomous look. His face is beatific, grin a little bit dangerous as he holds his hands up in a white flag. “You look pretty bothered. If only there were a way to fix that.” Chan looks at Jeonghan with wide eyes, hope surging for a moment. “Just tell her you like her.”

“Why is that the only advice any of you have?”

“Because it’s the only advice I have. Either tell her or get over your feelings. Those are your options.”

“And I’ve already told you, it would just make her uncomfortable. It’s not her burden to bear.”

Jeongan taps his fingers on the countertop, studying Chan. Chan pouts into his cup, taking long draughts, trying not to cringe at the strong taste. He can already sense the oncoming buzz and he welcomes it, needing a little something to distract him from the obvious elephant in the living room.

“Alright,” Jeognhan relents. “Then deal with the consequences and get over your feelings.”

And he will. Chan has always been good at dealing with the repercussions of hiding his feelings, and he does them well. So he tips back the cup and rejoins the party, nerves steeled and ready to deal with the consequences like his friends keep telling him to.

“What?” you asked, lifting your voice to be heard over the rowdy game of cards at the coffee table. Joshua had asked you something but the words had been lost on you as your gaze drifted to Chan where he was leaning against the wall, talking to a girl you didn’t know. He was leaning awfully close. “I didn’t catch that.”

Joshua smiles. He really is handsome, and everything someone could want in a partner. He’s kind and gentle, has a little bit of an insane streak, and he is incredibly intelligent and loyal. So why do you feel nothing when he grins at you or laughs?

Your eyes drift over to Chan again and you feel your stomach flip. The alcohol turns to lead. The girl Chan is speaking to is so close to him, both of them turned toward one another as he ducks his head down to say something to her. She laughs and he smiles, looking her up and down.

Jealousy swallows you whole. It roars so loudly in your ears that you almost miss Joshua’s question again. “Did you give any thoughts about dinner on Friday?”

Dinner? Friday? Oh right. He had asked you to dinner on Friday, but you’d declined due to your planned Blood and Popcorn night. With Chan. Who is flirting with the girl next to him, who is flirting back.

The jealousy feels like a raw, rotten thing. It turns the alcohol in your stomach sour, makes the sweat on the back of your neck feel too much, like the room is too loud and too full. Even as the envy rears its head, an ugly beast ready to unleash, you turn to Joshua and say, “I really can’t. Friday nights are really important to me.”

Joshua looks disappointed, but he’s polite enough to nod and smile. “I understand. Maybe a different night?”

“Um, maybe. Would you excuse me? I really need some air.”

You stand abruptly, starling the people next to you. The cup in your hand shakes a little and your throat constricts and oh god. You cannot cry in the middle of a party just because you’re a little buzzed and the boy you like is across the room with another girl.

“Do you want me to-”

“No!” You quip, shaking your head. “Totally fine, I’m so fine, I just need some air. Please! Sit! Stay!”

Joshua raises his eyebrows at your frantic commands and you give a laugh that is a little on the hysterical side as you step over the legs of people sitting on the floor and on the couch. Joshua calls after you as you make the escape but you don’t turn around, eager to get out of the room.

You trip over someone’s foot and nearly launch into a passerby as you go. Strong hands steady you before you totally topple over, though your drink sloshes over the edge of your cup, spilling it on the carpet.

“What is it with you and your other half?” You look up to realize that it’s Jeonghan who stabilized you. “Spilling drinks all over my damn floor!”

“It probably helps. Your floors are disgusting.”

“Ya! That’s beside the point - why do you look like you’re about to die?”

“I feel like I might. I need fresh air.” For a moment, Jeonghan looks confused. You watch his dark brows pull together and he looks over your head, dark gaze scanning for something. For Chan, you realize. It’s usually Chan who leaves with you if you need air or need to stick your head in a bucket to vomit. The realization hits you like a brick. “Not him,” you whisper. “I’m fine.”

Your words land at the same time Jeonghan focuses in the direction you’d last seen Chan. He holds you there, suspended in time for a moment as his eyes dart between you and back to where you know Chan is still leaning against the wall.

There is a flicker of something that you cannot place in Jeonghan’s gaze before it softens and he nods. He pulls you toward him and helps guide you around the groups of people. “Fresh air it is.”

“You don’t have to come.”

“I don’t know, crying alone is kind of lame, Bambi.”

Cool air hits you the second you step onto the porch. Soonyoung is sitting on the railing with Jihoon and Vernon leaning next to him. He waves enthusiastically when he sees you, breaking out into a grin and lifting the joint between his fingers, an offer. You shake your head and he shrugs, passing it to Vernon who lifts a hand in salute.

The smell of weed chases you down the grass slope of Jeonghan’s backyard. It’s not so much a backyard as it is open to the apartment community’s lake. The spray of the fountain grows louder as the sounds of the party fade.

Jeonghan sits down in the grass, leaning back on his hands. You join him, cringing at the dampness from the dewey grass. Taking in a deep breath you close your eyes and lean your head back, letting the wind cool the sweat on your overheated skin. The breeze mists the fountain, tiny specks of water tingling on your face as you sit in silence.

Behind your lids, you can see the image of Chan leaning in toward that girl. The intimacy of the space. You hate how you can recall it in such detail - you’d always been able to remember details where Chan was involved. Like the way he was wearing a black, long-sleeved tee that pulled against his chest and arms perfectly, or the way the necklace you bought him two years ago glinted in the light of the living room, or the way-

“I did it to myself, huh?” you ask, feeling the first tear collect on your lash line. You tilt your head upward, trying to blink it rapidly away. “I could have just told him a while ago.”

“Well, I don’t think you’re entirely responsible,” Jeonghan mutters. “Look, putting your heart on your sleeve is really scary, especially when it’s to someone you really value. But you have to decide what to do. You can either tell Chan you love him or you can decide to get over it. You can’t cling to unspoken feelings, though.”

“I just… I don't feel like he returns the feelings and I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

“Then get over him.” You snap your gaze at Jeonghan, who is looking at you with the cool and calm you wish you felt. “If you’re unwilling to be honest with him, then your option is to get over it.”

“Do you think he would… react poorly?”

“Of course not, but I will not speak to all of Chan’s feelings. Those are his to share, not mine, and I believe in the sanctity of acting on one’s own.”

“You sound so… saintly.”

“Dealing with all your problems has turned me into a saint. Do you know what it’s like being therapy to all of these damn people? You all take ‘door open’ a little too seriously.”

You laugh, feeling a little lighter. Pulling at the grass, you sigh. “You’re right, though. I either need to just tell him or let it go. I can’t just… suffer.”

“If only you’d come to that conclusion a while ago.”

“Bleh.”

Fresh air and the weight of Jeonghan’s words weigh down on you. You know that he’s right. Though you’re confident that Chan doesn’t return your feelings, you don’t explicitly know because you’ve never asked. And if you never ask, you’ll never know.

Calm settles over you as you decide your course of action. Blood and Popcorn is in two days - you can bring it up then.

Nodding to yourself, you pluck more grass out of the ground. “Alright,” you tell Jeonghan, heaving a sigh. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Ugh, you two! Don’t call me that!”

Hands shaking, you stare at your phone. You’ve had two days to mentally prepare for this evening and yet when you look at your phone, you think two days was not remotely enough to prepare for this evening. You haven’t spoken to Chan at all about what time you want to have your weekly hangout, but that’s not unusual.

The only thing unusual is your hesitation to hit the call button and ask what time he wants to come over. It’s such a simple thing - you don’t need to confess your feelings to him right now. But the anticipation of what inviting him over means and the possible disaster it can bring makes your fingers shaky.

Instead of hitting dial, you take one deep breath and let it out slowly. In slowly again, and-

Your phone starts ringing before you can finish the exhale. Your heart pounds in your throat when you see Chan’s name flash across your screen. For a few seconds there is pure panic, but you manage to collect yourself and slide your thumb across the screen. It takes a few tries, your hands clammy with anxiety as you answer.

“Hi!”

“Don’t kill me,” Chan immediately says on the other side of the line. You pause, cocking your head.

“Why would I do that?”

“I have to raincheck on Blood and Popcorn tonight.”

“Oh no, are you sick? Do you need me to bring anything over? Is Seungkwan-”

Chan laughs on the other side of the phone and your stomach flutters helplessly. You hear the creak of bed springs and you know he’s sitting on his bed. He has the world’s creakiest bed. “I’m not sick.”

“Oh.”

You frown, sitting down on your couch and folding your legs. There’s nothing else you can think of that Chan would cancel Blood and Popcorn for, so illness had seemed like the first rational thing. You feel a little embarrassed at immediately trying to take care of him, but push it away to ask, “What’s up?”

“I have a date. Tonight is the only night she was available for like two weeks. She’s in her first year of law school so her availability sucks.”

It feels like the air vanishes from the room. You lean back against the backrest on the couch, deflated. You hold the phone to your ear, but don’t feel the weight of it in your hand. The TV across the living room becomes a blur, the muted program in the background unrecognizable.

A date. Chan has a date. That he’s willing to cancel your night for.

You think back to that night at the diner when he told you to just go out with Joshua instead of doing Blood and Popcorn. How easily he pushed it aside. Like it was unimportant. Easily missed.

“Bambi?” Chan’s voice sounds distant through the roar of your emotions. “You there? The cell service in your apartment is so shitty.”

“I’m here.”

“Oh good. Sorry to miss, please don’t kill me. We can add two days of Blood and Popcorn next week to make up for it?”

“Yeah. Uh. Yeah.”

There’s a pause. “Are you okay?”

“Definitely.” Lie. “Sorry, I just woke up from a nap and I’m a little spacy.” Lie. “No problems here. I’m not mad. Enjoy your date.” Lie.

“Thanks, I’ll let you know how it goes after!”

“For sure.”

When Chan hangs up the phone, you think that Jeonghan was right. Crying alone is lame.

Chan can’t do this.

Sol isn’t the problem - at least not directly. She is beautiful and funny, sharp as a whip and has an edge to her that he loves in women. She is successful, has goals, and she’s sensible. And she’s into him, which is perhaps the biggest plus of all.

But she isn’t you. Sol’s biggest problem is that she’s not you, and it’s not really her problem at all. It is Chan’s and Chan’s alone, and he cannot sit through this date anymore. He’s tried for the last hour already, asking all of the right questions and laughing at all the right places, but he cannot stop the way he wonders if you’re watching buffy. He cannot help but wonder if you’re in those expensive pajamas you like, drinking inexpensive wine from the corner story, his favorite contrast.

Chan cannot stop thinking that his button up is a little too tight on his chest and the uncomfortable way his new shoes rub his ankle. He’d rather be in a tee and shorts, freshly showered and stretched out. He cannot stop blinking his eyes, hating the way one of his contacts is irritating him, wishing instead to be in glasses and the lowlight of your apartment.

From the moment he ended that call with you to cancel Blood and Popcorn, all he’s felt is dread. Dread for the upcoming date with someone he should be excited about, dread for telling you how it goes, dread for having to be in public with people and to get to know someone, dread at what happens at the end of the date, does he have to kiss her? Does he have to go get ice cream? What does he do-

“Are you okay?” Sol’s raspy voice draws him from his thoughts - not for the first time that night. She’s leaning back in her seat, dark eyes pinning him to the spot. She is as sharp as she is beautiful, and normally someone like Sol would make him trip over his feet. “You zoned out.”

“I apologize, that was rude of me.”

“It was,” she agrees. She swirls the wine in her glass, looking him up and down before giving him a sympathetic smile. “I won’t be offended if you want to call this off early.”

“What?”

“You’re not interested,” she asserts. Confident. Self-assured. “It’s totally okay if it’s not working for you.”

Heat crawls up the side of Chan’s neck. He runs his sweaty palms over his slacks. “I am so sorry,” he says earnestly. “This sounds so stupid to say, but it is me, it isn’t you.”

“No offense, but I know. You’ve been distracted since we got here. You obviously have something or someone else on your mind.”

“That easy to read, huh?”

“Open book. I have some pride, though. Let’s pay the bill?”

“I’m sorry.”

Her grin is polite. Understanding. “Don’t be. You’re cute and nice, but I cannot suffer knowing your mind isn’t on me.”

“Understandable.”

Chan knows he’s lucky. Anyone else a little less level-headed or less confident might have made him suffer. As it is, Sol does let him suffer a little, sliding the bill over to him with a knowing grin. He likes Sol - not like he likes you, but she’s good people.

“Promise me one thing?” Sol asks before ducking into her Uber. “It’ll help my pride.”

“Sure.”

“Go spend the rest of the evening with whoever it is and make sure you tell them how you feel. It’ll be worth it, that way.”

Chan grins. “Alright. I promise.”

And he does intend to hold to that promise. Something about tonight is different. He can feel it as he walks quickly to his car, undoing the top button of his shirt as he goes. The air is crisp and there are still a few streaks of orange in the night sky, the sun long gone.

Chan calls you as he turns his car onto the road, heading toward your apartment on the northside of down. He drums his fingers along the steering wheel, buzzing with nervous and excited energy as the line rings. When you don’t pick up, he ends the call.

Jeonghan was right - he usually is. Chan could either tell you how he feels or live with the consequences, and he’s decided he cannot live with the consequences. He cannot sit across the table from someone who isn’t you and pretend that he isn’t wondering what you’re doing. He cannot look at the curve of someone else’s mouth and wonder what it would be like if it were yours.

The date had been spurred by the intense wave of jealousy and inadequacy he felt at Jeonghan’s party when he saw you sitting on the couch with Joshua. He has no idea how else he would have had the confidence to start chatting up someone as commanding as Sol, but he was powered by rum and a wounded heart.

Stupid. It was stupid, he realizes now. He has been stupid so many times regarding you and for long enough that even Joshua, the most polite of his friends, felt like they could respectfully intercept you, now.

Well, perhaps you will choose Joshua instead. Chan is fine with that. What you want has always been paramount to him. But if you choose Joshua, it will be with the knowledge that Chan loves you and he always has.

Steeling himself, he gets out of the car at your apartment complex and looks up at the building. He can see the lights on in your living room, confirming you’re still home and probably watching Buffy. The thought sends a thrill through him and he smiles, shaking his head and taking a deep breath.

“You’ve got this, Lee Chan,” he tells himself. “You’ve got this.”

A loud knock on your door startles you. You finish blowing your nose in the issue, trying to suck up the rest of your tears. Pulling the sleeves of your sweater - Chan’s sweater - over your hands, you wipe your face with sweater paws, trying to erase some evidence of your tears before having to face the delivery person.

Grabbing the bills on the counter, you wonder how many people delivering food have seen people answer the door while crying or immediately after crying. Honestly, they’ve probably seen all types of strange situations, which makes you feel a little bit about answering the door after very clearly sobbing.

Unlatching the top and flipping the deadbolt, you yank the door open, prepared to not make eye contact to make it a little less awkward for you and the person just trying to hand you pizza and soda, except-

“Chan?”

It is Chan standing outside of your door. You blink in surprise, giving him a quick once over. He looks really nice, dressed in slacks and a black button up shirt that is a little too tight across the chest - not that you’re complaining - and the top of the buttons undone to reveal the necklace you gifted him. His dark hair has styling product in it, pushing it out of his face, save for a small rebel strand that hangs over his eyebrow.

Chan looks… beautiful. You’re suddenly very aware that you’re in his sweatshirt and sweatpants, face swollen from crying, nose a little snotty and looking worse for wear.

“What are you doing here?”

“Why are you crying?”

Chan pushes his way into your apartment and you let him, dropping your arm as he passes by. He shuts the door for you, flipping the latch and lock out of habit as he turns to you. He reaches out to grab you by the shoulders but you back up a little, suddenly terrified of his touch.

He notices. “Why are you crying?” he asks again, dark brows knitted and mouth twisted in a frown. “Talk to me.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be on a date?”

“Left early, wasn’t working. What’s going on?”

You swallow thickly, realizing you’re at a crossroads. Silence stretches between you as he waits for your answer, looking at you with so much concern that you begin to crack. The tension in your throat returns, the telltale sign of tears and you ball your fists, nails digging into your palms.

A torrent of feelings bombard you. Anger. Hurt. Desire. Relief. Hurt again.

“You canceled Blood and Popcorn.”

Chan opens and closes his mouth, head cocking to the side a little bit. He looks mystified, trying to put together the pieces to the puzzle. “I don’t understand.”

“You canceled Blood and Popcorn for something else. For someone else.”

“I-”

A series of emotions flit over his face. You feel your heart pounding wildly in your chest as you watch each one, trying to catch them as they go. Confusion. Thoughtfulness. Confusion. Realization. You watch as he drinks you in, the tears, the wet stains from crying on the shirt, your words. Slowly, Chan puts the pieces together for the entire picture, and his face becomes so soft that you nearly cringe.

“Oh, Bambi.”

“You can date whoever you want, you’re not mine,” you punch out, wiping a tear as it escapes your eye. Feeling small, you back away from him a little, breaking eye contact. “But it hurts when you shove me aside like that. Look, I know we’re friends, but-”

“Bambi,” he says gently. You’re not looking at him, but you know that tone. The pleading. He’s begging you to stop, you think, but if you don’t get this out now you never will.

“Blood and Popcorn is important to me. You’re important to me. I know you’ve never seen me as more than a friend, but Chan-”

Chan interrupts you again. This time though, it’s by crashing against you. You nearly topple over onto the coffee table with the force of it, but you cling to him, digging your hands into the meat of his biceps to hold yourself to him. His hands press into the small of your back, sending a bolt of electricity to you that you can’t pay any attention to, because Chan presses his mouth against yours softly, stealing all of your thoughts.

For a second, your brain goes static. You’re so stunned you don’t do anything but cling to him, vacantly aware that the softness of his lips are on yours. Tentative. Questioning.

Chan pulls away and your eyes flutter open. He is only an inch away from your face, his minty breath fanning your lips as he begins to apologize, panic on his face. You interrupt him this time, surging forward to crash your lips to his, far less gentle than he had been the first time.

The box you’ve shoved every feeling for Chan cracks open. You feel everything pour out of it, a steady stream of want as you press into him. He smells like teakwood and mint, hypnotizing you. His mouth is soft and eager, sucking gently against your bottom lip.

Everything feels lighter, like gravity has lost all meaning. Chan pulls away from your mouth a little, close enough to brush your lips against his in a feather-light kiss, but enough to gaze down at you through half lidded eyes.

“The date didn’t work out because I kept thinking of you,” he whispers, voice shaking. You feel your breath stop as he speaks, each word sinking in. “It was stupid to ask her out. I was feeling insecure about Joshua asking you out, and it was stupid and petty-”

You kiss him again. He smiles into the kiss, letting you lead him, slow and lazy. You feel his tongue brush against the seam of your lips and you eagerly let him in, toes curling as he licks into your mouth.

“I just want you,” Chan admits, breaking away for a quick breath of air. He presses his lips against the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your cheek. He peppers your face in them as his hands skate up your back, hot even through the material of his sweatshirt. “I have for so long and I’ve been so afraid to tell you.”

“I was afraid too.”

“I have wasted so much time.” His hands cradle your face, turning you to look at him.

Chan is so earnest. Raw honestly glitters in his eyes. Deeper, hiding beneath the surface is something a little darker and more intense. Want. Desire. Something that lingers, waiting for you to call it forward. You love him so much that in that moment you almost cry more, feeling overwhelmed with everything you’ve buried down for years.

“I want to make up for it,” you whisper, stealing a kiss that is more teeth than anything. He makes a noise in the back of his throat. Your hands sink to his waist, gripping at the fabric of his shirt. “I was actually going to tell you tonight, before you canceled.”

“What a stupid man I am.”

You smirk a little. “Yes.”

“Let me apologize,” he murmurs, voice low. You feel yourself shiver as he pushes you toward your room, connecting your mouths again. The kiss is messy and needy, so different than the one moments before. You tangle together, stumbling toward your room. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Oh?”

The crash landing onto your mattress is not graceful. Chan’s full weight falls on top of you and your foreheads smack a little. You yelp in paint and Chan groans, burying his face in your neck. You can’t help the laughter that bubbles to the surface, exploding out of you as your hands press flat on his back, soothing as you hold him to you.

“First step of apologizing,” you wheeze under him. “Give her a concussion.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, burying his face further in embarrassment. “I’m a little eager.”

His breath tickles your neck, making you squirm under him. He seems to notice, opting to press open-mouthed kisses against your throat. You hum, eyelids fluttering at the stimulation. “It’s okay,” you breathe, fingers turning to claws against his back. “It’s cute.”

Chan leans off of you, properly supporting himself with arms on either side of your head, caging you in. His knee slots between your legs, making your stomach leap in excitement as he scoots it up a little, almost pressing against you.

“You’re cute,” he notes, kisses getting messy as they go up your neck toward your ear. He nips your ear and you let out a sound. His laughter is warm against you and you shiver. “You’re in my clothes.”

“I wear them all the time.”

He groans. “I know. Fuck I know.”

“Is that what does it for you?” You move your hands from his back to his waist, pulling the tucked shirt from the waistband of his slacks. His hips twitch forward, excited. He busies his mouth with pressing wet kisses to your jaw. “Me in your clothes?”

“Everything does it for me. I am down horrendous for you.”

“I really didn’t know.”

He moves a hand to pull at the collar of his sweatshirt, exposing more of your collarbones to him as he kisses. “Everyone else did,” he assures you. You hiss when he bites down and licks over the sting, looking up through dark lashes to gauge your reaction. You nod a little and he grins, doing it again. “Biting. Got it.”

With trembling fingers, you work the buttons on his shirt. You steal touches as you go, greedy for him. Too long have you hidden what you want in the shadows, too long have you resisted this. Now, you take.

You brush your fingers against the flexing muscle of his stomach as you pull at the shirt, making him moan deep in his throat. His skin is like fire as you brush your fingers across its warmth, shoving his shirt off. He leans up, letting it fall from his shoulders, rippling to the ground.

The light from your hall glows behind Chan, halloween him in golden light. Your breath catches in your chest as your fingers press to his skin, brush over his shoulders and chest, down his stomach. You feel him twitch beneath your hands but he lets you explore, breathing hard under your reverence.

Golden boy, so full of fire. It’s all you can think of as you stare up at him, equal parts light and dark in your bedroom. Your hands drop to his belt and you tug him to you, desperate for him.

“Kiss me,” you beg.

He does. His mouth is greedy, stealing your breath. A thrill shoots through you when he slides his knee up higher, pressing it between your legs. You breath the kiss to gasp at the barest amount of pressure and Chan grins, watching your reaction through a heavy gaze.

“Take this off for me,” he asks, voice raspy. He pulls at the hem of his sweatshirt on your frame. “Please.”

You lean up, pressing your mouth to his collarbone in a sweet kiss as you pull the shirt over your head. He helps you, tossing it somewhere else. His hands go to your sides, fingers tracing up your curves as he pushes you back down, claiming your mouth again.

It feels like you might go crazy. Your bare chest presses against his, the friction turning your blood to liquid fire. His knee is firm between your legs, and when his hand slips to your waist, squeezing you and urging you to roll your hips you can’t help but let out a moan in the shape of his name, helpless.

“Fuck,” he swears, dropping his forehead to your shoulder as he helps you move against his thigh. “If you say my name like that again I might bust in my fucking pants.”

“Chan.”

“Don’t,” he laughs, biting your shoulder. “I want this so bad.”

“I want you.”

“I might pass out due to sheer joy.”

“I have some ideas on how to revive you.”

He lets out a swear and you laugh. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Maybe.”

Truth is, you think he might be the death of you. You’d die happily in his arms, completely swept up in the feeling of Chan’s tongue as it skates across your skin and up the swell of your breast. When he pauses, you look down at him. He smirks, happy to have your attention before he flicks his tongue lightly over the peak of your nipple.

You squeeze your legs around his thigh, back bowing off the bed. He lets out a chuckle, repeating the flicking motion as he watches you with dark, satisfied eyes. It drives you insane, the way he watches you with equal parts reverence and determination to find out what makes you squirm.

Chan is a fast learner. His teeth scrape against your nipple and you whine, thrashing under him as he teases you, pulling gently. The sting feels so good, making you melt into the mattress underneath him. He makes a sound of appreciation, sucking gently and sending you to the moon before trailing his mouth toward your other breast.

The hand on your hip squeezes you, reminding you why it had been there in the first place. “Keep going.” His breath fans against your skin and you tremble. “I like seeing you worked up.”

“God,” you whisper, trying to roll your hips against his leg again. It feels so good but it’s not enough, and as he sucks greedily at your chest you feel like you might rip at the seams. “Who knew you were so… this.”

You feel his wet grin against you, tongue flicking against your pert nipple. Your head falls to the side as you pant, trying to catch your fucking breath.

Of course he can reduce you to nothing so easily. No one knows you better than Chan, the two of you like twin flames. Every touch of his tongue, every press of his fingers into your skin, every breath of your name on his lips were made to unravel you because it’s Chan. Your Chan.

Your Chan who gently pulls the sweatpants from your hips, groaning low and slow when he sees the way your panties stick to your folds. Your Chan who kisses and bites the softness of your thighs, breath ghosting across sensitive flesh, fingers prying your legs apart when they start to twitch shut.

You’d always been made for him. To think otherwise was folly. You know that now, hand gripping his bones tight as he pulls your hands to the side, the cold air hitting your aching cunt. He lets you squeeze his hand, not caring that your gripping is bone-breaking.

“Hmm.” He looks up at you and you look down at him. His eyes are blown and he grins, shaking his head a little. “This for me?” You nod, your thoughts banging around the near empty space in your head as you do. “Fuck.”

And then his tongue presses against you, flat and warm and fuck fuck fuck. You can barely function as Chan drags his tongue slowly up your pussy, avoiding your clit entirely before dragging it back down. He makes a sound in his throat that sounds like a whine and you nearly lose it there, driven insane by him.

Chan takes the hand he has linked with yours and rests it on your hip, pressing into you to keep you still. You buck under his mouth and he laughs, unbothered as he looks up at you. The vision of him between your legs makes you dizzy, his hair mused, tongue pressed between your folds, eyes starving.

Your other hand grips his wrist where his opposite hand holds you open. You cling to him, thighs twitching as he licks you at his leisure. His mouth is a weapon, bringing you to the edge of insane easily. When he closes his lips around your clit and sucks gently, you fear you might break.

He can sense it too, setting himself to the task of pushing you over the edge. Chan learns you so quickly - maybe just knows you intuitively - alternating between circling his tongue around your throbbing bundle of nerves and sucking on it gently.

“I am going to die,” you gasp between ragged breaths. “Your fucking mouth.”

“Yeah? Feels good?” The buzz of his words drive right into your lower stomach where your orgasmed has so much compacted pressure you know you’re going to snap any moment. “Taste so good. I could eat this pussy all fucking night.”

“Fuck, Chan. I’m gonna come.”

He gives a harsh suck to your cunt, the wet sound obscene. “Good.”

“Like that.”

“Yeah?” he asks, panting. He does it again, following your instruction. Your mouth falls open as you nod, unable to string together more than. “Mmm.”

Chan doubles his effort, the wet sounds of his mouth making it all the harder to keep it together. He keeps you in place as best as he can, but his little hums of pleasure and the combination of his mouth and tongue send your orgasm slamming into you.

You think you say his name. You have no idea if anything comes out at all. You come hard, thrashing against the bed as he licks you through it, uncaring. Every nerve in your body is on fire, limbs tingling as you float in the momentary high of your peak before you start to come back down, breathing raggedly.

A cramp throbs in your fingers that are still twisted in Chan’s grip. You loosen your grip a little bit, feeling a little bad about almost snapping his fingers. He doesn’t seem to mind, head still between your legs, tongue gentle and pressed against your twitching entrance. He avoids your clit, letting you catch your breath.

“Chan,” you mumble. He lifts his head, your arousal spread across his mouth. He is a mess, spiking your need for him. You pull at him, wild. “Kiss me.”

He doesn’t hesitate. He scrambles up to you, letting go of your hand in favor of cradling your face. The kiss is hungry and wet, your heady taste on his mouth as you drink him in. You don’t care, desperate to have him close, pulling him into you.

One of your hands snakes between your bodies, pressing against the firm outline of his cock through his pants. He lets out a whine, shaking his head as he breaks the kiss, breathing heavy.

“Don’t,” he begs. “I will cum right now.”

“Oh?”

“I’m so serious, I almost came untouched.”

“Wow, I really do it for you, huh?”

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” His sincerity makes you flush and you peck him on the lips. “I cannot promise I will not come apart after a single stroke.”

“Don’t care.” You undo his belt, pulling. “Want it. Want you. Please don’t make me wait.”

He curses. “I can deny you nothing.” He sees your wicked grin and shakes his head, laughing as he pulls away to kick out of his pants. “You like having me wrapped around your finger, huh?”

“You’re not the only one whipped.” He looks at you, doubtful. “You think I share my fries with anyone? Be so real, Chan. That’s something only you can do.”

“Got it. French fry privileges, what else can I weaponize?”

You don’t answer his question, distracted by him as he peels his briefs off and fists his heavy cock. You lick your lips, drinking in the length and thickness of him, the sticky, swollen tip, the way he pumps himself when he kneels on the bed again.

“Hmm?” he asks, noticing you're distracted. “Everything okay?”

“You have a nice dick,” you blurt. He pauses, raising his brows, thighs pressed to the back of yours. You fold your lips flat, a little embarrassed by your outburst. “Thank you is the proper response to a compliment.”

He bursts into laughter and you can’t help but join him, covering your face as it heats up. “Don’t hide from me, wanna see you,” he teases, grabbing your hands and pulling them from your face. He pins them above your head. “And thank you.”

Chan runs the head of his cock along your sticky folds, both of you moaning in unison. His hand still pins yours above your head, making you feel open and vulnerable. Your knees squeeze his hips as he ruts against you a little, eyes focused while he uses his other end to guide himself to your entrance.

“Mmm,” the sound escapes you as he presses in, the ache in your core doubling for a second as he sinks further. “Fuuuck.”

“Okay?”

“Very. Just- slow.”

“You got it, baby.”

The term of endearment hits you low in the stomach. Between him whispering baby and sinking into the hilt, you don’t know what drives you crazier. The easy answer is just Chan. It’s simply Chan who does this to you, who turns you inside out, who reduces you to a whimpering mess.

Chan lets go of your hands and brings it to your face. He leans down, supported by the other hand as he kisses you gently, letting you adjust to his girth, pussy spasming around him as you try to keep it together. The kiss is slow and sweet, in contrast to the feral kiss you shared earlier.

“Fuck,” he breaths against you mouth, laughing. He presses his forehead against yours. “You’re fucking squeezing me. I might die.”

You do it on purpose this time and he hisses, all of his muscles clenching. “Like that?”

“Doonnn’t. If I come right now I’ll be so embarrassed.”

“Why? It’s just me.”

“I don’t want to one-stroke my dream girl, are you serious?”

“Dream girl, huh?” He pulls out a little before shallow thrusting back in. “Mmm yeah. That feels good.”

Instead of answering your jest, he kisses you slowly. His strokes are slow but deep, making you sigh. He feels so good, having him like this. Chan presses his body against you, melding the two of you. You wrap your legs around his waist, squeezing to keep him as close as possible.

Your name falls from his lips as you move in sync. You can feel his heart pounding in his chest, feel him shake in your hands. He buries his face in your neck, mouth pressed against your skin as he breathes heavily. You cling to him, as though you could press your love into him, as though you can transfer it through touch.

Chan slides a hand between the two of you, reaching down to circle your clit gently. You whimper in surprise, squeezing around him and drawing out a low sound. “I’m gonna come soon,” he murmurs. “Do you have another one, baby? Can you try for me?”

You nod. He presses his lips to your temple, driving his hips faster, fingers firm. You feel yourself wind up again, desperate to catch up to Chan, to give him what he wants, to come undone together. You’d do anything for him - anything he asked. You always have.

A glint of metal catches your eye. You see the necklace you gifted him hanging around his neck, tapping his collarbone in time with his movements. The sight of it makes you possessive, your desire for him surging. Gripping the back of his neck, you bring his mouth to yours. You don’t kiss him, but your mouths are pressed together as you mutter, “I love you, you know?”

He groans, hips stuttering, fingers firm. You’re so close, you feel yourself right on that edge again. “I do know,” he admits, his cock pressing that perfect spot inside of you that has the room spinning. “I love you too, you know?”

You feel him smile against you. The kiss he gives you is so gentle that it sends you over the edge. You hold him tight, coming undone around him as he groans into your mouth, unraveling with you. When he stills, you keep holding him to you, his embrace warm.

Chan nudges your nose with his. You open your eyes to find his dark ones peering at you. You smile, lifting a hand to trace your fingers along his jaw, the gentle slope of his nose, the roundness of his cheeks. You note the faint freckles under his eyes, his long lashes, the way one side of his lips lifts before the other when he smiles.

“Hmm?” he asks.

“You’re so pretty.” You trace your finger to his nose and then flick it. He frowns and pulls away, making you laugh. “There is cum leaking down my leg to my ass.” He thrusts once sharply and you whine. “Chaaaan.”

“Hmmm?”

“Can we shower?”

“We?”

You grin. “You speak French?”

“I speak pussy.”

“Ew, get off of me!” you laugh, hitting him in the shoulder. He laughs too, rolling off and pulling out. “Take me to the shower, you loser.”

“Oui.”

“Then I want to watch Buffy - oh no.”

“What?” He stands and reaches a hand out to you, helping you up. “Are you alright?”

“I ordered pizza and they probably tried to deliver.”

“That’s okay.” He pulls you toward the shower and smacks your ass lightly, making you yelp. “Start the shower, I’ll call and get it re-delivered.”

You pause, looking at him, unable to bite back the smile. “I love you.”

“Mhmm. Love you too, Bambi.”

“I know I’m good looking,” Chan murmurs, eyes on the screen. “But you’re staring very hard at me.”

You’re laying against his chest, head tilted up to look at him. You can’t help it, watching the blue light from the TV dance across his face, reflected in the glasses he put on after the shower. His hair is still damp and fluffy, skin glistening from the skincare post-shower.

“You are good looking.”

“Damn. Only like me for the looks?”

“Well your jokes aren’t very good.”

He levels you with a glare and you laugh, kissing him quickly before settling down in his arms again. His embrace is warm and he smells like your shampoo. You press yourself into him further and he grunts, letting you.

“Can we do Blood and Popcorn forever?” you ask, watching him fondly. He smiles and kisses your forehead, flooding you with warmth. “Please?”

“Anything you ask, baby. Blood and Popcorn forever.”

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@ddaddunugu @ourkivee @tie-nn @cookiearmy @thesunsfullmoon @stray-bi-kids @ldysmfrst @thepoopdokyeomtouched @eoieopda @onlywon4u @hopeless-foolery @iamawkwardandshy @gyuguys @codeinebelle @ateez-atiny380 @bultaereume @yoongznme @kaitieskidmore97 @coffee-addict-kitten @gyubakeries @archivistworld @asyre @kaepjjangiya @fancypeacepersona @beckyloveshannie @imujings @do-you-remember-summer-127 @jbluen @mingumis @kimsaerom @imlonelydontsendhelp

#lee chan smut #chan smut #dino smut #dino svt #svt smut #chan x reader #dino reader #dino fanfic #svt fanfic #sventeen smut #dino x you #dino x reader

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selarina · 7 months ago

Text

True Blue

→ Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader (Series Masterlist)

Chapter 2: The Green Light

Content Warnings: college bf!gojo, long-distance, fluff, smut, established relationship, summer, phone sex, nudes, light angst, emotional tension, insecurities, gojo is rich and clingy! Minors DNI

Word Count: 2.6k words

Author's Note: had "Good Looking" by Suki Waterhouse on repeat as i wrote this. can you tell?

You had thought coming home for the holidays would mean endless days spent with Gojo, caught up in each other with nothing else to do in this sleepy town. Here, time moved differently, like honey trickling from a spoon.

Time spent in college had been different— there were classes, assignments, and the whole college thing — but now, time with him would be luxurious, unhurried, just the two of you, without the world pulling you apart.

But it had been two weeks since you last saw him.

To start with, your mother, in that peculiar way mothers are, still treated you as if high school had just ended yesterday. And then there was the summer ritual – three weeks spent with your grandmother, a tradition that pulled you three states away, leaving Gojo behind in all his boredom. The first week of summer had been his, or at least partially, for even then half of it was lost to the tournament that kept him longer on campus. Now, only a single constrained week and a month remained,

“So, you’ll be back by then?” he asks, a kind of hope edging in his voice. You almost feel bad.

“I don’t know—” you speak up. “I always spend three weeks. I don’t want to leave earlier.”

“It’s only a week early and it’s my birthday, baby,” he whined, his plea childish, like a boy who doesn’t understand why he can’t have everything he wants.

“I know, but we can always celebrate later,” you offered, knowing full well it wasn’t the answer he wanted.

“Okay,” he says, and you hear it, his voice is thin and worn. It’s not the first time he’s asked you to come back earlier, nor would it be the last. “How’s it going in Midsommar-land anyway? You need to start sending me more pictures or I’ll forget how you look.”

You scoffed, but there was a smile in it. It was the least you could do. “I promise, I will.”

You chat on about things, meandering through familiar territories. And when you finally ran out of things to say, Satoru started asking you about colors, shapes, chickens, and just about anything he could think of to keep the conversation going.

Four hours had passed, and the weariness in his voice was clear.

“Satoru.”

He hummed in response, his voice soft, almost dreamy.

“Go to bed,” you say gently.

“But I don’t want to,” he mumbled, the resistance fading even as he spoke.

“Yeah,” you said, understanding. “I know. I’ll call you tomorrow anyway.”

“Mmkay,” you hear him yawn through the crackles of the phone. “Don’t forget — pictures.”

You hummed in agreement, ending the call.

You fell back onto the bed, feeling the dull ache in your elbow from holding your head up for so long as you spoke.

The ceiling, plain and blue, stared back at you as you tried to think of what you would do today. And then it struck you — pictures first.

Your fingers moved quickly, perusing through the squares in your phone’s gallery, searching. But the images were all wrong— food, your grandmother, endless trees, and greens, but not a single one centering you.

You frowned, scrolling back to the last picture of you —a simple mirror selfie. The first week of summer, it dated. You were standing clad in Gojo’s tournament jacket and shorts. The memory brought a smile to your face.

You got up then, moving with purpose — like a mad scientist, you started to dig through your suitcase until you found it. You took your top off, as you pulled the jacket on. The heat was far too horrendous for both items layered on top of one another.

You fell back onto the bed again, the pillow soft beneath your head. You held the camera up — your hair spreading around your white pillow covers, with your face in focus.

You realized you looked tired, dark circles blooming like dark mold under your eyes, but your grandparents would return soon and you wanted to get this over with now and for all.

Click.

You drew your hands back a bit more, making sure the jacket engulfing you was visible.

Click.

Your eyes caught a glint— a silver shine at your neck. Of course. You reached for it, a delicate gold necklace with a blue jewel at its center, Gojo’s 6-month anniversary gift to you. You remembered the guilt you felt then, for you had given him a silly joke of a book in return.

It now lay over your — his hoodie — sitting against the hoodie, a small, almost hidden detail.

Click.

The phone was warm in your hand, the screen glowing softly in the dim light. One more, you decided. The last one.

You listened, straining for any sounds in the silence—footsteps, voices—but there was nothing, just the quiet of the empty house.

You pulled off the jacket, your movements quick but deliberate, and you lifted the phone above you, adjusting the camera before snapping a shot of you with your bare chest. Bare, but not entirely so — the gold necklace still graced your neck.

The moment passed as quickly as it came, as you pulled the jacket back on in haste.

You selected the last two photos, sending them in quick succession. The order mattered, after all.

—

The next morning, you had risen a bit too late in the afternoon. The light of the afternoon sun already slicing harshly through the curtain. The evening yesterday was eventful with the bonfires you helped build, and food you helped grill. It had been lovely. Exhausting. Glorious.

You immediately reach for your phone. Almost giddy with anticipation.

But when you opened the screen, there was only one message from Satoru.

Satoru <3: Pretty

The text specifically replied to the first picture you had sent, conveniently leaving the second unacknowledged. Your brows knitted together.

You tapped his contact and pressed the phone to your ear, the silence of the room amplifying each drawn-out ring.

Once. Twice. Then, the line crackled, and his voice came through, light and smooth.

“Afternoon,” he drawled. “Did you just wake up? It’s late.”

“Pretty?” you ask, agitated.

“I am? Thank you,” he says, you can almost hear the grin form on his mouth.

“Satoru,” you reply, it was your turn to whine now.

“What is it, baby?” he asked, feigning innocence. Oh, he was loving this, wasn’t he?

“Just pretty?” you asked, your patience stretched thin but still intact. You felt small, however, in an odd way you couldn’t explain.

“You’ll get more than that,” he said, “if you say you’ll come to my birthday.”

A groan escaped you. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” he replied.

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered. “No more pictures for you. Ever again.”

And you only smile when you hear him fumble — words overlapping one another as though he’s finding one that’s appropriate enough to satiate you — to convince you to do both.

“I just want you here,” he said finally, the simplicity of the statement catching you off guard. “I really do.”

“You’ll see me two days later,” you countered. “You don’t even care about your birthday.”

“I don’t,” he admitted easily. “But everyone else does. You know my mother will make a whole thing out of it — the birthday will be loud. And annoying. I need you with me. Please—”

“You only want me there because it’ll be annoying,” you replied, your frown deepening, though a certain softness crept into your tone later. “It’s only two days. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“Yeah, how? you’ll send me more pictures?” he asks, his voice lithe.

“I don’t know,” you teased, the earlier irritation melting away, as it does. “You didn’t seem to like the last one.”

Silence.

“I liked it,” he finally said, his voice lower now, almost reverent. “I did.”

“Yeah?” you asked, your voice lower, mirroring his. “What did you like about it?”

“I liked you,” he said. “You’re pretty.”

“I am?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he affirms. “Very.”

“Why thank you,” you said, the gratitude in your voice genuine, yet playful.

“I’m looking at it right now,” he continued, his voice taking on a breathy quality as if he were speaking more to himself than to you. “Pretty,” he murmured, devout.

“What’s pretty about it?” you prompted, curious and engaged now.

“You —” he says. “Want you here with me, so bad.”

“You want me there with you?” you ask.

“Yeah.”

“Where are you?” you ask.

“I’m— I’m in my bed.”

“Alone?”

“Yeah,” he says.

“Where are you?” he asks then.

“Well, I just woke up,” you replied.

“So, you’re in your bed too,” he surmised.

“Yeah,” you replied, pulling the cover up to your chest. “Hey,” you decided to add. “And guess what?”

“What?” he asks, chewing on his lips. “I’m wearing your hoodie too,” you said, and though he could not see you, you could almost sense his reaction.

"Fuck," he exhaled, the word barely more than a breath. "And, what else?"

“Um—” you start to feel a bit awkward. “Shorts. Black shorts.” Do specifics matter, you start to wonder?

“Bra?”

You glanced down, though you already knew the answer. "No," you whispered, the word slipping out before you could stop it before you could hide behind something safer. You cleared your throat, speaking up, clearer this time. "No."

“Fuck,” he says again. The mental image of you wearing his sweatshirt without any bra was driving him a bit hazy.

You rushed to break the tension, "Your turn."

"Huh," he responded as if he had lost track of the conversation, of where this had started.

“Tell me what you’re wearing.”

“Well, just sweatpants and a t-shirt,” his voice casual.

“Take them off.”

He chuckled, the sound soft, surprised. "As my lady pleases."

You heard rustling sounds, and you let your imagination wander to an image of him in his room. You’ve never seen his room, save for some hints in the many pictures he loves to send you, but you haven’t been to his place. Yet.

Based on what his dorm looks like, he’s such a boy. It doesn’t have a theme, just a mixture of things he’s collected erratically placed in places he could if you get the gist.

You wonder what color his room is.

You realize you’ve wandered too far, the tension that first filled the space between you two as he speaks is gone, as you’ve indulged your mind.

"They’re off," he stated, his voice bringing you back, grounding you in the present moment. "Now take yours—wait! Take only your shorts off. I like you in my hoodie."

You smiled at that, and just as you’re about to take it off, your hand lingering at the waistband, ready to comply when—

“Hey, sweetheart,” your grandmother’s voice cut through with the sound of your door hinging open, bringing you to notice that there is a world beyond the two of you.

"Grandma, what—" you stammered, your heart racing as you scrambled, about to cover yourself, though you realized a second later that you didn’t need to. You were still fully clothed, still just talking on the phone. You sighed. "What happened?"

“Oh, nothing, dear but if you’re not too busy… could you help Yuuji with the birds? He hurt his wrist this winter, poor thing, and I think he could use your hand.”

“Of course,” you sighed with a smile, a small and reluctant thing, forcing its way to your lips. “Just let me get dressed, and I’ll be down.”

“Tell that friend of yours you’re always talking to that I said hi,” she added, a warm smile in her voice.

You nodded, almost absently, the phone still pressed to your ear as she left the room, the door closing with a soft click.

“Grandma says hi,” you relayed.

"Tell her your friend says hi back," he responded, his voice carrying an edge now, a note of irritation that was impossible to ignore.

There were too many things left unsaid, too many disappointments lining up on the horizon—birthdays you wouldn’t be there for, a family you hadn’t yet told him about.

You felt the fairness of it, just a bit. There are many things at play right now — you hadn’t told your family about him, you wouldn’t be coming in time for his birthday — too many things disappointing a boy who’s used to having it all. "I’m sorry," you said, the words sincere. "I’ll call you in the evening. Same as yesterday.”

He made a sound that was neither agreement nor refusal, just a noncommittal hum. "Have a nice day," he muttered, and the line went dead, leaving you alone in the silence.

—

It was warm, and windy as you drove back home to see Satoru Gojo. You drove alone, aside from your backseat companions – jars and jars of condiments from Grandma.

His house was even more elaborate than you had first expected – a whopping red and white brick mansion. It was a mansion you thought one would only see in their extravagant imaginations but there it stood, just beyond the long stretch of a well-furnished garden.

As you pulled up – a man appeared. He was middle-aged, and greying at the temples. His manner was brisk, so formal, as he offered to park your car, and you simply let him. You assumed he was a chauffeur for the estate.

Standing before the entrance, you feel as though the mansion seemed bigger than when you first laid your eyes on it from afar. Looming. Its sheer size made you a bit dizzy and small as you stared up at it.

You walked up, your hand reaching to press the small buzzer on the side of the ornate door.

“Oh!” The voice belonged to a woman with bright eyes and an even brighter smile. “You must be here for the young master’s party?”

Young master. Satoru. You nodded, stepping inside.

And then you walked and you walked, and you started to wonder if they should invest in a vehicle for an inside the house.

Walking through a high hallway, you finally made your way into what seemed to be a living room or just a big room where there were a bunch of people pacing and talking about with drinks and sticks with food in their hands.

You assumed you finally arrived at the party, as the bright-eyed woman nodded at you as she left you to find your own steps now.

A breeze flew through the room just as you walked in, blowing the curtains in at one end and out like flags as you walked into where the concentration of the room lay.

The only seemingly still object in the room, amidst the whipping of the curtains and the moving guests, was the enormous white couch in the middle. And that’s where you saw him, Satoru, lounging, with a glass perched on the bridge of his nose as he spoke to a boy. The boy you barely glanced at — he was of no consequence just yet.

You approached, your eyes noticing the lines of his black shirt as it ruffled with the breeze. With each step closer, your courage grew, pushing to make your presence known to him, and the guests that surrounded him.

A sudden boom echoed through the room, and you turned just in time to see the same bright-eyed woman from earlier closing the long windows with a decisive motion. When you looked back, you noticed Satoru’s gaze had already fixed itself on you.

His brows, you could see, even through the glasses, emerged upward, in surprise.

Without thinking, you reached for his glasses, slipping them off as you spoke. “Hi,” you said. A giggle, a nervous giggle following you.

“You came,” he murmured, almost in a daze.

“Yeah,” you replied, a smile tugging at your lips. “I wouldn’t miss your birthday. What do you make of me?”

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